Dangerous Drabbles
by Raven1050
Summary: Chris/Wesker Drabble Collection, both slash and nonslash but mostly slash will be included. Prompts will most likely be done out of order. Other warnings are listed inside.
1. Prompt 003: Love

_Disclaimer: The characters, series, and prompts all are borrowed and twisted to my will but none of them belong to me._

**Warning: These chapters won't have warnings on them but some (if not most) will have sex in them. There's a reason it's rated M. This chapter specifically doesn't reflect this but the following chapters will!**

**Author's Note**: Oh look, here we go with a drabble collection. First of all, this is my first ever so if it's awful then there's your reason. Secondly, all of these will include Chris and Wesker in some way shape or form whether it be in a relationship or not. It really depends on the prompts. All prompts are from a prompt challenge but I will happily accept suggestions. Don't expect for the prompts to be in order because my ideas are so terribly limited, it's not even funny. Lastly, don't be surprised if any of these drabbles turn into full length stories because that just happens sometimes. Enjoy!

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**Prompt 003: Love**

**Close Call**

Chris was use to this, probably far too much than he should have been. It was the middle of the night, after all, and someone had rung his doorbell. The brunet really wasn't in the mood for this; Captain Wesker had been particularly hard on him all day and it was Jill's day off so he didn't have anyone to complain to. Chris and Wesker had a sort of agreement that only Jill knew about and Chris was about to fulfill the agreement… Again.

"I just got home, Wesker, I'm tired," Chris muttered after opening the door.

He was shirtless, his work pants hanging from his hips to show that he indeed just arrived home and was in the middle of getting undressed. The blond at the door was still fully clothed in his outfit, pair of sunglasses in place despite it being the middle of the night.

"It will be a short visit then," Wesker said, walking past Chris.

"Get out, Wesker," Chris commanded, turning on his heel, his hand still holding the door open as he looked at the blond who was already getting comfortable.

Chris's apartment was nice and new; The doorway led directly into the living room which was adjacent to the kitchen right across from where Chris stood. A hallway to the left of the doorway went to his bedroom and the bathroom that were both rather large. In fact, Chris didn't stay at home often simply because his apartment was too large for it just being him. True, Wesker came around often enough but he never stayed, no matter the hour, and it was only for their times together- it was never personal.

"I've had a long day too, Christopher. The faster we do this-"

"I said no, Wesker. Get out," Chris said, anger building in his words.

Wesker simply smirked.

"Angry, are we?" he taunted before sitting himself on Chris's couch.

"You think?" the brunet asked before slamming his front door. He walked into the living room, his eyes glistening with anger. "I know you can be a hard ass sometimes but today was just ridiculous. You treated me like a child who couldn't do anything and then you gave me countless things to do only to continuously yell at me and make me look terrible in front of the team. It was humiliating and unnecessary and you've really crossed the line so no, I won't let you fuck me. Now get out."

"You're angry simply from the way I treated you throughout the day? Chris-"

"Save it, Wesker. You did it to 'put me in my place' like you always do but I'm tired of it. My place isn't beneath you and the sooner you realize that, the sooner you'll have a real lover," Chris turned on his heel and began for his room. "Get out, Wesker," he muttered before slipping into his room and shutting the door.

He leaned against the door and waited for the receding footsteps and finally the closing of the front door. Chris sighed and pushed off the door, walking towards his bed in the center of the room.

Wesker treated him like an object and anytime Chris began feeling anything he shouldn't be or doing something he shouldn't do- Wesker would 'put him in his place'. In all honesty, Chris wasn't entirely sure what he'd done this time to push Wesker so far but he was sick of it. He wasn't a tool simply to be used for sex- their agreement was simply that, an agreement.

True, it was awkward at first and took Chris a few weeks to differentiate his Captain from his booty call but eventually it was done. There were times after they were finished that they would just laze about in bed talking absentmindedly and those were the times that confused Chris. The problem was, Wesker always somehow _knew_ when Chris was suddenly questioning his feelings because that's when he pulls stunts like this- to show the brunet just where they stood.

But, to Chris's knowledge, he had absolutely no feelings for the man beyond that of their agreement.

It was well known to Wesker that Chris had moral issues with their arrangement and beyond that simply didn't like being taken advantage of so Chris knew that couldn't have been it- that was absolutely nothing new and, in some ways, Wesker understood where he was coming from.

Chris sighed and laid back on his bed, his eyes looking at the white blotched ceiling that he despised. He had sat here, night after night with Wesker. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they fucked but they were always civil. Even most of their fights were civil because Chris rarely got this angry and Wesker had a way of keeping Chris under control (something Chris wasn't very fond of).

It all felt so natural and yet so fake. Chris, quite literally, wasn't allowed to fall for Wesker. It happened over and over again but the blond always took those feelings away and now Chris didn't even know how he felt.

Two months and he had been on the emotional roller coaster of his life.

* * *

The next day was easier; Chris didn't have to go in for work and invited Jill over to chat (gossip). Jill wasn't exactly very pro-agreement but as Chris's friend, there wasn't much she could do besides support him. In fact, she wasn't much of a fan of Wesker. As a Captain, she respected him but as a person she was wary of him and made it very clear to Chris on a regular basis.

"I really hate the way he treats you," she said with a sharp sigh after Chris had finished explaining it to her.

"I know," he muttered quietly causing Jill to look at him with sympathy.

They were currently in his dining room that was connected through his kitchen. Jill had brought over pizza and they were only a few pieces into it by the time he was finished with his story.

"Have you ever thought of-"

"Yes, we've talked about stopping but neither of us have time for a real relationship and it's a really nice stress reliever," Chris muttered before taking a bite of his neglected piece of pizza.

"Well, if you haven't noticed- you two already act like you're in a relationship," Jill said causing Chris to eye her dangerously.

"What exactly makes you say that?" Chris asked accusingly, dropping his already ignored piece of pizza only for his arms to cross over his chest. Jill set hers down as well, wiping her fingers on a small napkin before continuing.

"You two spend massive amounts of time together-"

"We work together, that's a little hard to avoid when he's my boss," Chris shot back, interrupting her.

"Yes I realize that but I mean the extra little things," Jill responded with a shrug, causing Chris to give her a questionable look.

"Such as?"

"Like on duty, he always directs you to go in front of him."

"I'm a sharpshooter which means I get placed as Pointman a lot. That isn't any news, Jill."

"So how do you explain our last mission when we had to join teams and he still placed you in the same position? In fact-" Chris had opened him mouth to respond but she raised her voice, causing him to give up almost immediately, "-He does it every time we have to join teams, like he forgets that Forest is almost as good as you."

"_Almost_, Jill. Wesker demands the best and that's the only reason he favors me in our missions," Chris spoke, almost dejectedly.

"Fine. What about all that extra time you two spend in the shooting range?"

"Most of the time, he's fucking me," Chris muttered causing Jill to gasp in surprise.

Yes, it was true she was well aware of their _activities_; however Chris had never been so crude and direct to her before so it was rather shocking.

"Chris!"

"I'm sorry, Jill, but you seem to have this weird delusion that our Captain cares about anyone besides himself. What happened to you hating him?" Chris asked accusingly,

"I don't hate him, Chris, and I'm not trying to say that he cares about you. I'm just trying to say that you two act like a couple-"

"You still haven't completely explained a time that would prove that," Chris snapped, his arms flying into the air as he stood up and grabbed his paper plate holding half a piece of pizza. Jill followed him swiftly in the kitchen as she responded.

"One week ago."

Jill's words were surprisingly strong despite what she said. Chris dropped his unwanted food into the trash and turned around to look at the female brunet who had a hand on her hip and a smug smile on her lips.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Chris muttered, striding past her though very unsure of where he was going as he had turned into his living room with the woman at his heels.

"Chris, you can't just forget a close call like that. You were almost shot!"

"Again- _Almost_, Jill."

But despite his calm demeanor, it did scare him. It was a close call and, surprisingly, Wesker had saved him. However, Jill was talking about what happened _after_ Wesker saved Chris and when Chris turned to look at her, he couldn't help but to remember.

_The team had to separate. Bravo was already going in through the back of the large factory and Alpha had entered through the front but the area was just too large. Unlike most of their missions, there were very few hostages due to the late hour so now all they had to do was find the small group. Security footage told the team the group was in a main office somewhere near the top of the building but they were vaguely familiar with the layout, after having to memorize a map that the police had supplied for them before entering the scene, and finding exactly where the place was located was proving to be difficult._

_Chris was, shockingly, put in front as the pointman which meant he traveled rather far ahead of his team, scoping out the area and, in general, keeping them safe. He stalked through the dark empty halls, quiet footsteps following distantly behind him as he quickly peeked into some of the various small offices that sat on either side of the hallway. He didn't have a flashlight and simply let his keen senses do most of the leading as he walked along before motioning for the rest of the team to hurry._

_Wesker was soon beside him followed by Jill and finally Joseph. The other part of Alpha was currently on the outside, giving Wesker information through his earpiece; Brad had hacked into the security footage and was giving them feedback on what was happening with the hostages; Barry had already supplied them with the needed weaponry and was on the roof of a nearby building trying to get a visual on the scene and the entirety of Bravo was currently following suit on the opposite side of the large building._

"_This place is huge," Jill muttered softly as she shined her flashlight down the three hallways that sat in front of them._

"_The staircase was to the right," Chris muttered, his shoulder pressing against the cold wall as he silently recalled the map they were only able to study for a few seconds._

"_Yes, I believe you're correct," his Captain agreed and Chris took this as a sign for him to continue. He signaled for them to wait until he got to the end of the hall where the closed door of the staircase sat before he motioned for them to follow. Jill immediately began picking the lock and soon, Chris had gone through, Wesker right behind him as he began up the stairs, Wesker watching the levels below them. After several floors, Brad informed Wesker they were on the right floor and Jill immediately began unlocking the floor's stairway door. _

_Within minutes, the group found themselves pressed against another wall, scaling it carefully as they were just out of visual reach of the hostages; The last thing they wanted was for the hostages to begin reacting to seeing them. After Brad confirmed that the intruder was nowhere to be found in the room that the hostages were locked in, Barry suddenly sprang to life in Wesker's ear._

"_The ninth floor, I believe, Barry," Wesker muttered quietly into his earpiece. Barry responded and Wesker eyed Chris and Jill carefully before responding to Barry. "We'll take care of it."_

_At that point, there was no real need for an explanation. He nodded his head toward Joseph and Jill and nodded down the hallway where they came from. The female nodded and they began where they were directed, keeping low and out of sight. Wesker then turned to Chris and moved closer to him, his lips pressing to the brunette's left ear._

"_They are providing backup. Barry witnessed a figure just on the other side of the wall. Be careful, love," Wesker never used that word out of the bedroom, especially not at work. Chris widened his eyes in the darkness, his head turning towards the blond. Wesker nodded forward and Chris nodded quickly in response, still in a bit of shock. He stood up from his crouched position and peeked around the corner, seeing nothing in the darkness. He sighed silently and began forward, silently moving through the hall, his gun at his side as he snuck along the wall._

"_Don't move," an unknown accent suddenly spoke and he found himself face to face with the muzzle of a handgun. "Drop the gun," another order and Chris did so, his gun hitting with a small clatter on the floor. "Good. Now back up," Chris glanced behind him and realized Wesker was nowhere to be found before obeying the man, his hands immediately up in surrender as he slowly inched backwards._

"_Why are you doing this?"_

_Time. Chris had to buy time. He wasn't entirely sure how long it would take for the backup to realize he was in trouble and he had no idea where Wesker was but he had faith in them- if not one but the other._

"_Quiet. We have no interest in conversing with fake police officers," he snapped._

_Chris caught the slip up- 'we'._

_Through the darkness, Chris could barely see the man but he could clearly see messy blond hair and some sort of military suit. The man had a radio on his right breast and he turned his attention to it, his dark colorless eyes set on Chris at the end of his gun as he spoke._

"_I've found the intruder. He is of no importance, simply a bargaining man sent in by the police force," he stopped speaking and waited for a response. When none came, his eyes narrowed at Chris and he tried again, "Do you copy, Luke?"_

_No response._

"_Were you alone?" he asked Chris._

_A knife to the man's throat answered his question rather well in Chris's opinion._

"_He isn't and you've chosen the wrong person to take hostage, I'm afraid. Drop your gun, you will get nothing from killing him and your teammate is already in custody," Wesker spoke clearly, his voice a deathly command._

_Chris hardly ever heard that voice and right now probably wasn't the time but damn he loved it._

"_If I don't?"_

_Chris almost laughed, he'd never heard anyone challenge Wesker; The blond had this aura about him that screamed 'do not challenge' but this guy clearly didn't feel it. Even being at the wrong end of this guy's gun, Chris couldn't help feel completely safe with Wesker there._

"_Do you really want to chance that?"_

_Okay, Chris had never heard __**that**__ voice and it was suddenly obvious why. Wesker wasn't accustom to being challenged and that set a whole new level that Chris nor anyone else on S.T.A.R.S had ever gotten to._

"_I would drop the gun if I were you!" Jill's voice echoed through the hallway and a flashlight was suddenly shining on the assailant's face. He closed his eyes to avoid the light and Chris, quite simply, knocked the gun from his grip and Wesker took him down._

_Jill and Joseph took over, allowing Wesker to tend to Chris. The brunet watched Joseph stand up, handcuffs now secured around the assailant's wrists as he was pulled to his feet. Jill followed him out and Chris turned to Wesker, smiling up at him._

"_Thanks for that," he said quietly. "I mean I knew you had some sort of plan so I wasn't-"_

_Chris had never been cut off by a kiss before. Whenever he saw it in movies or shows, he always felt almost internally insulted, believing that if he was in the same position that he would be terribly angry for being interrupted but he was clearly wrong. It was an utterly amazing feeling as if words were completely unneeded and all that __**was **__needed was the two of them being together._

_Wesker soon had Chris against the wall, their bodies pressed gently together in a passionate and, hopefully, never ending kiss. Wesker had one hand around Chris's waist while Chris's hands were on Wesker's shoulders, grasping onto his clothing in a way to pull him closer._

"_Chris, the ho- oh," Jill's interruption didn't stop them and she silently turned on her heel and stopped Joseph from following into her mistake. Instead, she just guided him back outside where the rest of the team sat and waited for them to finish._

"I had backup. I knew if Wesker wasn't up to something then you and Joseph would be," Chris argued. They were now sitting on his couch; Chris had his elbows digging into his thighs while his head sat in his palms and Jill sat beside him, her legs crossed with her arms comfortably setting on her knees.

"Except for the fact that Frost and I were in a completely different part of the floor so there was no way we could have helped so your only hope was Wesker and he came through wonderfully, apparently," she added with a smile and Chris eyed her from between his fingers. "I've never seen him show any sort of affection at work- especially on a mission. It's just a bit strange, don't you think? I mean, what if it had been Joseph to walk around that corner except for me?"

"Yes, I know it was dangerous which is why I'm so damn confused. Why would he do it if it risked so much of.. Well.. Everything?"

"Are you really that stupid?" Jill asked causing Chris to look at her in disbelief. "Seriously, Chris. You aren't going to be that thick, are you?"

"Oh, you see something I don't, do you?"

"Yes, Chris! Yes, I do! And you're completely ignoring the fact that Wesker has f-"

The doorbell cut her off and she sighed angrily.

"Are you expecting anyone?" she asked quietly and Chris shook his head. "Well, answer it then," she muttered and Chris sighed and stood to obey. "Just get rid of them," she added quickly before he opened the door.

"Get rid of me? Well then, I certainly feel welcomed, Miss Valentine," the blonde's voice made both Jill and Chris freeze as both brunettes simply stared at him.

"I-I'm sorry, sir, I didn't realize-" Wesker's chuckling caused her to stop speaking and smile in return despite Chris's still very shocked position in the doorway.

"May I come in?" Wesker asked, eyeing the shocked brunet.

"I really don't think-"

"Chris, don't be that way," Jill snapped and Chris turned quickly to give her a look that the female was certain he learned from Wesker.

"Thank you, Jill," Wesker walked in, slipping past Chris who took up most of the doorway. "I'm sorry to interrupt-"

"I'm sure you are," Chris muttered as he shut the door. Wesker smirked and glanced at him before sitting in a small loveseat that sat beside the couch.

"-but I'm here to speak about yesterday," Wesker continued as Chris returned to his seat beside Jill.

"Oh, then I should leave," Jill stood up suddenly and Chris grabbed her wrist softly, looking up at her desperately.

"No, you should stay," Chris said sternly though his eyes clearly betrayed his words.

"Chris-" Jill spoke softly. "Come on, walk me to the door," Chris frowned and obeyed, releasing her before standing as well. He guided her to the door, Wesker simply watching quietly as the brunet opened it and she leaned into his ear. "Everything will be fine. Try to get him to open up a little and try not to be so thick. He has feelings. Go with it, Chris," she whispered almost soundlessly. She leaned back, smiled, waved to Wesker and vanished leaving a very confused and suddenly rather nervous Chris behind.

He sighed and closed the door, turning to look at Wesker who's smirk had yet to fade as they stared at each other.

"S-So. What do you want now that you've chased Jill out?"

"I truly didn't mean to interrupt your little gossiping session," Wesker teased and Chris scowled at him. "Oh, you're still angry at me. Very well," the blond sighed and sat back.

"Of course I am. I want an explanation for how I was treated yesterday and I have yet to get one!"

"Because you've yet to ask," Wesker spoke simply and despite the soft tone, it seemed to anger Chris.

"I'M ASKING NOW!" he shouted before crossing his arms over his chest with an angry huff.

"I won't lie, it's rather difficult to say," Wesker muttered as he stood and began walking towards the angry brunet. "I'm a bit ashamed, as well," he admitted, his English accent suddenly more noticeable through his quiet words. "The team has been in several similar positions but it's never been you, Chris. You've never been the one in danger," he muttered as he stopped directly in front of Chris. Wesker was slightly taller than Chris so the brunet was now looking up at Wesker, their eyes never breaking contact as Wesker spoke.

"You're talking about last week," Chris spoke in realization.

"I am."

"You had the upper hand, I wasn't in any real-" Chris's arms had dropped to his sides as his anger was draining.

"You were, Chris. That man had nothing to lose and he had a gun to the head of a S.T.A.R.S member," Wesker explained sternly but quietly.

"He didn't know I was S.T.A.R.S. He assumed I was just there to bargain with him, sent in by the police because he found me alone."

"Which is why the moment I showed up, he realized you weren't part of the police force. I'm assuming he realized that the police force wouldn't send someone in armed to bargain with them at that moment and even through the darkness, he could see we weren't wearing police uniforms. I could see it clearly running through his head, he was willing to take one of us down with him and you were at the end of his gun, Chris."

"Alright but nothing happened and that still doesn't explain why you treated me like shit yesterday," Chris said, anger rising near the end of his sentence.

"It does, Chris. You just don't see it."

Chris stared into Wesker's eyes, searching for an answer there but when none came, he realized Jill was right. He wasn't seeing clearly and he had to stop letting his anger get in the way if he was going to understand anything. He took a deep breath but didn't pull his gaze from Wesker as he spoke.

"D-Do you have feelings for me?" he asked slowly.

If Jill was wrong, Chris would kill her and that was the only thing running through his very nervous mind.

If Wesker was surprised by Chris's understanding, he didn't show it. Wesker gave a small and simple nod; He said nothing and two of them simply stared at each other for a long few minutes.

"After all those times that I-"

"I realize that which explains my behavior yesterday. My plan was-"

"It's pretty clear," Chris muttered rather emotionlessly. "You wanted me to push you away so that your feelings would go away, just like mine should have done when the situation was reversed. Last night was suppose to be your finishing move. You wanted to make sure I was angry with you-"

"No. Last night wasn't part of it. I was going to tell you and explain myself but-"

"Instead, you tried playing it off as if it was my fault. You made me believe I had done something wrong in your twisted little way of-"

"I'm sorry, Chris!" Wesker rarely allowed his voice to go above a demanding but calm demeanor so his frantic yell of an apology actually shocked Chris. "It was my own denial that pushed it. I wanted to arrive here before Miss Valentine-"

"Jill? Why did you want to get here before Jill?"

"She's a bit too smart for her own good," Wesker whispered and Chris's exhale turned into a quiet snort of laughter.

"She figured it all out and you didn't want her to tell me," Chris said with a sigh. "You wanted to explain it yourself." Wesker gave another nod and the two men sat in silence a bit longer as Chris processed the new information. "So, what now?" Chris now had his gaze on the floor; It was the first time their eye connection had been broken and Chris simply didn't want to look at the man as he told the brunet why they couldn't be together.

Instead, Wesker stepped a half-step closer so their bodies were almost pressed together. This made Chris look up at him again, uncertainty in his eyes as Wesker smirked.

"What do you want, love?"

"That's kind of a stupid question, isn't it?" Chris asked causing Wesker to chuckle.

"I don't read minds, Christopher."

"Ugh, I hate it when you call me that," Chris muttered and Wesker sighed.

"Stop changing the subject. If it's 'no' then just say it," Wesker spoke seriously and Chris quickly reached a hand to the back of Wesker's neck to pull them together, their lips connecting a bit sloppily as Wesker certainly wasn't expecting it. The blond quickly recovered and they were soon engaged in a passionate kiss that was unlike any the two had shared.

Their kisses were usually chaste and filled with lust with a definite fueling of sex either before or during. Now, their touches were sensual but still theirs and their bodies were pressed together but merely to feel closer together rather than to rub against each other; The kiss was new yet Chris had experienced it only once before- just a week ago, he was kissed in almost this exact same way when Wesker realized he had almost lost Chris and the brunet simply loved it.

"Does that answer your question?" Chris asked, moments after hesitantly pulling from the kiss for air.

"A bit. It could use some clarification," Wesker answered, his smirk returning as Chris gave a breathy chuckle.

"I want you, dumb ass," Chris said flatly causing Wesker to chuckle.

"We'll have to work on that nickname, Love."

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**I'm a bit worried this was a bit OOC for Wesker because Wesker just doesn't love- he just _can't_ because he's Wesker so when I saw this prompt, I saw it as more of a challenge. **

**So I hope the first drabble was enjoyed; It was a bit light but there will be some dark stories, some weird stories, even some couples that aren't ChrisxWesker! (Don't worry, anything that isn't directly ChrisxWesker will have undertones of it or will wrap back to ChrisxWesker in some way, shape, or form so just enjoy!)**

**Lastly, I thought I might add that this chapter was suppose to end with sex because it was pretty much the main focus of the whole drabble but I sincerely didn't want sex to be in the first chapter of a drabble. **

**So, as I end this long and, most likely, ignored Author's Note, I really want to know what you guys think! Like I said, this is my first try ever at a drabble collection so hopefully it won't go terribly.**


	2. Prompt 050: Fear

**Disclaimer: The characters, series, and prompts all are borrowed and twisted to my will but none of them belong to me.**

**Author's Note: Oh look at me coming up with wonderful ideas that aren't awful or OOC at all. (Total Sarcasm) By the way, I won't be doing all drabbles by prompt but when I do, I'll include it.**

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**Prompt 050: Fear**

**Trust**

It was painful, physically and emotionally.

Chris was stupid or that's how he felt anyway. He had trusted the one man in his life that had already betrayed him once. How had he let his guard down so easily? Why was the numbing pain so painful? The physical pain was bad enough but the numbing internal pain just ate at him as he watched the slightly taller blond vanish from sight.

And then he was punched in the stomach, his entire body flying upward before gravity regrabbed him and pulled him back to the floor. He landed face down, gasping for air as Wesker's dark chuckle could be heard a few feet away.

"Poor, deluded, Chris. Claire warned you, did she not?"

"S-Shut up!"

Chris had been clueless of Wesker's doings. All those nights sleeping together in the same bed and Chris had never known anything the blond was planning. He had a spy behind everything, running around Spain while the President's daughter was captured which led them to where they were now- in Wesker's (formerly) secret Tricell lab.

For years, Chris had thought Wesker to be dead but a single fleeting glance finding Wesker following him led to heated conversations which led to old feelings that had pained Chris for years. Chris had trusted Wesker with every fiber of his being and now Chris had nothing.

"Come to think of it, Jill warned you as well, didn't she? Well, you must feel-"

"SHUT UP!"

"Oh but Pet-"

"No," Chris coughed out, struggling to sit up only to fail and leaning on his forearms with his eyes on Wesker. "Don't you dare."

"-I love you," the words sounded so sincere and it absolutely broke Chris just before the brunet was kicked. His body slid across the tiled floor, his back hitting the black swivel chair in the middle of the room with force. With the air knocked out of him, Chris went into a gasping fit, yet again trying to get up. His entire body was hurting by now, even if they had only been going at it for a few minutes. Wesker was ruthless and he was sure as hell not holding anything back.

"I-It doesn't make any sense! You've helped the B.S.A.A! Everything that you've done-"

"-Has inevitably helped myself. There are few things I would do without benefit for myself," Wesker said casually as he walked towards the struggling brunet. "I'm a bit disappointed, Chris," he spoke as he pulled up Chris by his neck, his fingers digging deep into the skin, cutting off any supply of air Chris had access to. "I assumed you knew me. That's what you claimed, wasn't it? We understood each other. Was that not what you said?" Wesker asked coldly, his smirk digging into Chris's subconscious almost painfully.

Everything had been a lie. How could Chris be so stupid?

Wesker chuckled as Chris gripped at Wesker's wrist but made no attempt to be released.

"I wonder if I should bother releasing you. Look at you now, you seem so prepared to die," Wesker finished with a chuckle as he brought Chris up to his face, their noses practically touching as he spoke. "It wouldn't benefit me, now would it?" he asked before tossing Chris, with ease, across the room.

Chris landed and broke a small table, going into a coughing and gasping fit as he secretly pondered whether it was worth it to stand up.

"You're being so submissive, Chris. Similar to-"

"SHUT UP!" Chris shouted, his throat burning and his voice cracking from the abuse.

"You haven't given up, then?" Wesker asked and Chris looked over at him to see the blond sitting in his swivel chair near the center of the room.

Half of Chris wanted, more than anything to shoot the bastard in the face. The other half knew getting to his gun that just happen to be sitting across the room simply wasn't going to happen and with the blonde's powers...

He tried anyway.

He stood up, trying desperately to ignore his burning throat, aching back, and sore stomach. He hurried across the room, ready to jump for his gun, only to be elbowed in the opposite direction by a quick move from Wesker.

"Now Chris, you knew a simple gun like that wouldn't get you very far," Wesker taunted as he towered over the groaning brunette.

"Just fucking kill me," Chris hissed, debating whether or not getting up was a wise choice.

"I would, Chris, but you aren't a threat. If you were, I could kill you with ease and simply continue with my plans but I'm not prepared to put up the effort for something that could potentially be a rather nice game."

"I'm not a game, A-Wesker! I'm not! We weren't!"

"Oh but we were," Wesker said, kneeling down beside Chris who was wishing to be anywhere but there.

And then he woke up.

Chris was gasping, sweating, and cursing under his breath all at once as he looked around and realized that it wsan't real. Beside him, Wesker lay sound asleep, his blond hair messy but barely noticeable through the darkness. Chris looked at him for a few minutes, his eyes flashing over the spots that he almost assumed to be bruised over as if the dream had actually managed to hurt him.

But it had.

The dream was far more important that Chris could even comprehend in his tired state so without even bothering to try to lay down and go back to sleep, he slipped out of bed. He blindly was able to find his discarded boxers, thrown some feet from the bed, before he began making his way out of the bedroom.

"Whatever it was, it was just a dream," Wesker called, causing Chris to freeze and look back towards the blond who hadn't sat up.

"It was a nightmare. Go back to sleep," Chris muttered, almost coldly, before turning and leaving the room.

Chris made his way through the apartment. Lately, Wesker had been staying over rather often and things were, in general, getting a bit scary for Chris. He had feelings for Wesker, something that he couldn't really handle for the first few times anything had happened between the two but eventually, things became comfortable and those feelings were now much stronger. In fact, the words 'I love you' had been passed back and forth once or twice and it wasn't during sex.

However, Chris was still, in the end, afraid of Wesker betraying him- again.

It was something that both Jill and Claire brought up constantly. As much as he wished for neither of them to even know about the relationship, Jill had walked in at an inopportune time and... well.. Claire knew almost immediately after.

The entire thing just seemed right... but something was wrong. Something was always wrong.

Sighing, Chris took a seat in the living room, not bothering to turn on any lights. He glanced towards the digital clock that read four-fifty and silently began contemplating whether or not he should get ready for work.

The dream itself had completely thrown him from his safe zone and into a place where he very intently did not want to be. He could practically still feel the throbbing of his stomach from being kicked and the stinging from his throat being grabbed with the blonde's superhuman strength, but it wasn't real.

It couldn't have been real.

"Stop brooding," Wesker muttered tiredly, breaking the silence and, ultimately, making Chris jump.

"I'm not. I'm thinking I should get ready for work," Chris said frigidly causing Wesker to frown and approach the brunet.

"It's rather early," Wesker said, eyeing the clock.

"I know. I don't want to go back to sleep," Chris said quietly, trying his hardest to avoid looking at the blond.

"What was it about?" Wesker asked, moving to sit beside Chris but Chris flinched and had to stop himself from moving away from him. "I see," Wesker said stiffly, stepping back into the hallway entrance.

"It was just a dream... but..." Chris trailed off as his head dropped and he was staring at the dark floor. "I really think I should get to work."

Wesker didn't speak as Chris stood and began inching towards the bedroom. Just as he passed by Wesker, the blond grabbed Chris's forearm causing him to freeze.

"What exactly did I do in the dream to cause such a reaction?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it," Chris whispered, his eyes on the hallway floor that was covered in shaggy carpet.

"Very well," Wesker spoke, releasing Chris immediately. "When you realize that I've done nothing wrong, perhaps you can speak to me without avoiding even the smallest glance at me," Wesker muttered impassively before walking into the living room.

"Wes- Albert."

As much as Chris wanted to say something beyond that, he couldn't. The slip up would make anything sound insincere and Chris _was _sincere; Chris calling Wesker by his last name was something that he had stopped once the two began their relationship. Hell, it was something he hadn't done in over a year and he could still remember vividly the last time he had ever used the surname.

"I see."

"D-Don't, Albert! I'm just tired and you really shouldn't be over examining the things that I'm saying right now," Chris said as he stepped hesitantly into the dark living room.

"I'm doing no such thing," Wesker responded simply.

"Yes you are. I'm serious, Albert, there's no reason for you to-"

"I have several reasons why I should be _over examining _your words. One particular reason derives from your subconscious effort to continuously make me into something that I have proven you I'm not. A single dream causes you to act as if I have betrayed my promise- the single vow that I have ever made or ever intend on keeping and yet this is how you treat it. Then you justify it by telling me to not take you _seriously_, just as you seem to be unable to take me _seriously_," Wesker said calmly, causing Chris to groan.

"You've betrayed me before, Albert, I think I have some sort of right to be somewhat apprehensive to the idea of you up and leaving me. These dreams don't happen often and these aren't regular thoughts but they are there and I'm not the one who should be blamed for them."

Chris really hadn't meant it and the cold, stiff silence that followed was enough of a response for the brunet. He had said one thing too much or perhaps all of it was too much but enough had been said for Chris to immediately regret the words... As true as they were.

"Look, I'm not saying you should be blamed. I'm just asking that you be understanding of my feelings," Chris spoke weakly and he heard his blond counterpart sigh from the couch.

Well, it wasn't so much of a sigh as a heavy exhale that secretly told Chris that he was able to mend his screw up, even if it was just a little.

"I suppose. However, don't expect me to forget this anytime soon. I believe you owe me a talk when you return," Wesker muttered, crossing his legs in the darkness before he grabbed for the remote and flipped the television on. The light from the screen brightened the room after a delayed moment and the blond looked over his shoulder at the brunet who nodded in agreement.

"I know I do. Just give me some time," Chris said quietly. His voice was barely audible over the voices of the television program that was playing in the background but Wesker heard him and nodded in response. "I'm going to go get dressed. You should go back to bed, you were awake most of the night," Chris said as Wesker muted the volume. The blond wasn't very interested in what the show was and simply wanted the light.

"I'm fine," Wesker said simply, his gaze back on the television.

"Albert..." Chris said in a worried tone. The blond turned his head back to the brunet and Chris sighed in disappointment as he saw the blonde's eyes flash red, the catlike shape glowing brighter than the light illuminating from the television. "You know I hate it when you do that," Chris muttered with a sigh. "You could just as easily go back to sleep."

"I have no interest in wasting the day by being asleep."

"This is your first day off in a while. Why not relax? I already said you can stay here for the day instead of rushing back home like you usually do."

"As I said, I have no interest in wasting the day asleep. I have my abilities, whether or not I use them for small things shouldn't concern you," Wesker said as his eyes continued glowing against Chris's will.

"Right," Chris muttered before turning and walking back to his bedroom.

He began dressing for the day, ignoring the sound of the television as Wesker resumed the sound from the other room. Chris didn't bother thinking too much of it, assuming the blond was waiting for him to leave before starting to relax as he intended to- something that most likely involved a very content blond in a bath of scalding hot water, a relaxation technique that he expressed to Chris as one of his favorites but something he rarely was able to do. Chris was soon dressed after a well needed shower that left him free of the previous night's activities and was soon running his hands through his pockets to find his cell phone.

Once the brunet found it, he checked the time and replaced the phone in his pocket before grabbing his handgun. He slipped it into his holster and walked into the living room that was now lit up by the sunlight that was streaming through the material curtains giving the room a morning glow. Chris notised Wesker was wearing a loose pair of black pants and his hair was still messy.

When Wesker didn't say anything upon Chris entering, the brunet opened his mouth to speak but stopped immediately when he realized the blond was breathing heavily with his eyes closed. His elbow was sitting on the couches armrest and his head was leaning heavily onto his left fist, his cheek squishing under the weight. Chris smiled at the sight as he realized the blond had stopped using his powers for his energy and simply accepted sleep... Just what Chris wanted.

Yet again, Albert Wesker had surprised Chris in ways that he simply couldn't deny and he was beginning to feel rather guilty about the dream that had shaken him in such a way.

However, no amount of guilt could force Chris to wake the sleeping blond and, instead, he simply slipped out of his house leaving to work with a small note explaining why he left without saying anything.

* * *

"You're early," Jill said as she passed by Chris's desk, papers in her hand and a visible earpiece in her right ear. Her brown hair was down, reaching just below her shoulders, and her sweater was missing leaving just a black tank-top in its place.

"I have a lot to do today," Chris muttered as he turned away from his computer screen. His desk was unlike most of the employees by both size and content. It was much larger than the rest and lacked any sort of personal touches. It was simply a desk where Chris sat a few times a week when there wasn't a major investigation happening. The desk held a desktop computer, a closed laptop, a file organizer, and countless papers but nothing else. Chris kept his office supplies in the various drawers and compartments on the sides of the desk but, yet again, nothing too personal.

"Is Wesker coming in today?" Jill asked, almost completely hiding her discomfort at the thought. Chris ignored it, like usual, and turned from his computer to look at her.

"No, he's taking a few days off. If you need his help, I could ask him-"

"No, no. Don't bother him, I was just curious," Jill said half heartedly.

"You wanted to make sure he didn't show up and scare off the new intern," Chris muttered as a very nervous looking male stumbled by following after a large group of agents.

"He scares a lot more than that interns, Chris," Jill muttered back but her voice was anything but accusing. Her voice was filled with worry and distress and Chris couldn't help but pity her if just for that moment.

"I understand, Jill. I'm trying my best but you have to do your part and trust him."

"Chris, we've been over this. You cannot expect me to trust him," Jill spoke sternly and just slightly louder than she should have causing the small crowd that was passing to quicken their step.

"Do you know how many times he's saved me in the last year?"

"Albert Wesker once pointed a gun at my head as he told me all the terrible things he had done. How the hell do you expect me to trust that?" Jill asked, her voice lowering considerably.

"Jill-" Chris sighed and folded his arms over his green and black shirt that held the B.S.A.A emblem on it. "-I don't know."

"Well, tell me when you find out," Jill said before angrily stalking away.

Chris exhaled heavily, watching Jill as she glided across the room and into her office as fast as possible before slamming the door behind her. Most of the other agents looked towards him as if expecting him to say something. When nothing was said, they all slowly began going back to work, including Chris who was going through the various mission reports submitted by some of the agents.

* * *

Arriving home, Chris completely didn't expect to find Wesker standing in his kitchen. The blond was wearing a tight black t-shirt and jeans- actually, Chris's favorite black shirt and jeans. The shirt was tight enough to show off Wesker's muscles hiding beneath the fabric but still dark enough and not stretched out like most of Chris's shirts seem to look. The jeans were a bit loose fitting and hung just under Wesker's heel without shoes but, again, seemed to shape to Wesker perfectly.

"You're home," the blond stated as Chris closed the door.

"Yeah, figured I'd come back a little early. I didn't expect you to be here, actually," Chris said truthfully while toeing off his sneakers.

"Why is that?" Wesker asked in amusement.

"You just don't tend to stay around much longer after- nevermind," Chris said before making his way to the bedroom, the blond on his heel.

The bedroom door was closed causing Chris to look at it strangely as if the idea of a closed door was lost to him. Considering the only time they closed the door was during sex, he found it odd and threw Wesker a strange look before opening the door.

The room was completely dark, the shades drawn in front of the windows to ensure that no light would escape through. Candles surrounded the room, lining the shelves, beside tables, and even the floor besides the small path that led to the bed. The bed itself, being completely lit by the candlelight, was glimmering and glowing with the flicker of the flames surrounding it and on top of Chris's pillow sat a single piece of thick black ribbon

"Isn't this a fire hazard?" Chris muttered in shock as his eyes scanned the candle filled floor.

"Shut up and kiss me," Wesker said with a roll of his eyes. Chris smiled and did just that, his lips meeting Wesker's passionately. Chris maneuvered both him and Wesker down the path, trying desperately to avoid being lit on fire. Wesker inevitably took control, his hands taking hold of Chris's upper arms to begin guiding him more effectively. Chris's calf hit the bed and he immediately dropped into a sitting position, Wesker following him just enough to finish off the kiss.

Chris immediately pulled off his shirt, looking for somewhere to toss it before throwing it towards the closet that specifically had no candles surrounding it. Wesker chuckled and followed suit, his shirt going first to Chris's chagrin. Both being shirtless, Chris pulled Wesker into another kiss while, simultaneously, shuffling back onto the pillow. Wesker slowly followed Chris, crawling onto the bed over him until Chris reached the pile of pillows and stopped.

Immediately, Wesker pulled from the kiss and reached towards the piece of ribbon that Chris completely forgot about. Wesker sat back as Chris sat up, the blonde's knees on either side of Chris's lap. Chris looked at the piece of ribbon in both curiosity and slight visible fear, his gaze falling on his significant other before Wesker spoke.

"I need you to trust me, Chris," the blonde said, "Close your eyes."

Chris didn't at first, his eyes sternly looking into Wesker's red making it more difficult to do as Wesker said. Wesker kissed Chris again, the brunette's eyes automatically closing as their lips moved against each other. Chris felt the black fabric against his eyes but didn't fight it as it tightened around his forehead, his lips still moving desperately against Wesker's.

Once the ribbon was secured, Chris felt Wesker's hand on his cheek and couldn't help but frown as Wesker broke the kiss, pulling away to leave Chris in the dark.

"What was the point of all the candles if you were just going to blind me?" Chris asked quietly as Wesker slowly laid him against the bed.

"I wanted to surprise you," Wesker said, his smirk clear in his words.

Chris felt the bed shift and his right hand was suddenly grabbed causing the brunet to jump slightly. He allowed Wesker to slowly raise his arm until he felt robe begin to slide around his wrist. He suddenly pulled back, his arm being held to his chest as he shook his head.

"Albert, you don't need to do this," he said hastily.

"You know very well that I must. Without trust, there is no relationship," Wesker stated as he set his hand back on Chris's though this time, it was in comfort- something Wesker had never done before. Chris looked towards where he could feel Wesker's presence and nodded.

Wesker began, again, raising Chris's arm until it hit the bed board and slowly wrapped a piece of rope around his wrist before wrapping the rest around the headpost. He tied it off and did the same to Chris's right hand, though quickly now that Chris was slowly becoming comfortable with the situation.

"You know I love you," Chris muttered through the silence as Wesker finished off the second wrist. This was a statement that wasn't spoke often. Neither of them ever felt it was needed but there were times in fleeting moments of extended separation or in moments of passion where the words would slip without regret.

"I'm well aware, Chris. I'm not questioning your love."

Chris didn't speak after that and he realized after a moment of shuffling that Wesker was getting himself undressed.

"Is the blindfold really necessary?" Chris asked as he painfully has to listen to Wesker's jeans unzip and the shuffling of clothing as he took them off.

"Very. I shouldn't have to tell you why," Wesker said as Chris heard the jeans get tossed across the room.

Wesker certainly didn't. Chris was well aware of how his senses were suddenly enhanced with the lack of his sight and feeling with his hands. He could hear every single movement that Wesker made through the silence but it was so far beyond just listening through the dead silence. Chris could feel the wind on his face when Wesker threw the pants across the room- even though the pants didn't fly anywhere near him.

Chris jumped when he suddenly felt hands on his own pants. He felt Wesker unbutton them with care before slowly unzipping them.

"Is this entire thing just so you can tease me?" Chris muttered, his head falling against the pillow as he had to lift up so that Wesker could pull them off.

"Of course not. That would be rather ridiculous."

"You don't find this ridiculous?" Chris asked with a hint of a chuckle as he heard his pants join Wesker's near the closet.

"Not at all," Wesker's voice was closer than Chris expected and he suddenly realized that Wesker was over him. Learning this, Chris suddenly realized that his senses weren't as sensitive as he thought considering his boyfriend was leaning over him and he hadn't even noticed the bed shift.

Being in such a weird position, Chris couldn't figure out whether he wanted to shuffle away or kiss the blond who was far too close to him. Before he could decide, Wesker's lips were on his. The kiss began sensually, their lips simply moving against the other's with no real concurrency until Wesker pulled away suddenly.

"What was that for?" Chris asked, shifting so that his head was off the pillow despite still being very unable to see anything.

"Consider it an apology," Wesker said softly, his voice again getting far too close to Chris's ear.

"For?"

"Restraining you," Wesker's voice was apologetic and still close to Chris's ear.

"I trust you. It's fine," Chris said with a shaky smile.

Chris felt the bed move and he assumed Wesker leaned back so that he was no longer hovering over Chris. Several minutes went by in silence and just as Chris was about to ask if Wesker was still there, a hand was placed on the inside of his thigh. Chris jumped slightly but made no noise and shivered as fingertips ghosted over the skin just under the cloth that remained. It was a sensual touch, one that Chris rarely received from Wesker. True, they were in a relationship but Albert Wesker simply wasn't the type to be patient or even slightly gentle when it came to sex.

It then occurred to Chris that maybe this wasn't a test for him but a test for Albert as well.

Chris wasn't entirely sure if that comforted him or not but it helped his boiling guilt- It told him he wasn't the only one who needed to work on his trust.

Chris remained quiet as he felt Wesker's fingers vanished and reappeared on Chris's lower stomach. Wesker's fingertips slid across smooth skin, nails gliding harmlessly until they reached Chris's boxers. Wesker's thumb stroked at the material, the elastic being pulled playfully down slightly before being let go to smack back against warm skin.

A shiver went up Chris's spine as cold air managed to sneak into his undershorts and breeze shamelessly over his hidden sensitive skin. Chris heard Wesker's deep chuckle and wanted to snap at him but Chris couldn't seem to bring himself to do it. Perhaps the moment was just too good to ruin or Chris felt too embarrassed. Either way, Wesker continued without a word and Chris immediately forgot about it as fingers were suddenly on his stomach.

The blonde's fingertips were slowly ghosting up Chris's torso, completely bypassing his _very_ erect nipples. Instead, Wesker traced Chris's collar bone a single finger sliding slowly over the pronounced bone until they reached Chris's neck.

The bed shifting pulled Chris out of the utterly relaxed state that he had slipped into and he found himself gasping rather dramatically when he felt lips on the left side of his neck. Chris felt Wesker chuckle, the reverberations humming against Chris's skin. The brunet wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around the blond above him as Wesker's tongue slid from his mouth and glided across abused skin.

"Albert..." Chris groaned out as teeth sank lovingly into Chris's neck.

Chris said nothing more as Wesker kissed his way up Chris's neck, following his jawline until reaching his lips. Chris happily accepted the kiss, their lips aggressively caressing eachother until Wesker pulled away, a hidden smirk on his lips.

"No more teasing, Pet," Wesker promised quietly, his lips beside Chris's ear once again.

Wesker shifted back, his entire hand now sliding over Chris's chest, taking in the sight and feel of the muscular man. Wesker mapped over the brunette's torso before abandoning it quickly. The blond returned to the last remaining piece of clothing on Chris's body. Chris lifted without being asked and within seconds the cloth was removed.

Chris rested himself back on the bed as Wesker leaned towards the bedside table and shuffled about. It took a few moments but Wesker found what he was looking for and began unscrewing the cap to, what Chris assumed was, lubricant. Chris listened as the contents were squeezed out and rubbed onto Wesker's length, a sight Chris truly wished he could watch.

Chris waited rather impatiently as he heard the tube get squeezed and the contents pour out. The brunet jumped when cold fingers were suddenly at his entrance, pressing the slimy substance inside. Chris let out a gasp and Wesker chuckled as he pushed two fingers inside with ease. The blond quickly massaged the lubricant into Chris before pulling his fingers out. Chris already had his legs spread but once Wesker was at his entrance and pressing to get in, his knees automatically pressed into his chest, Wesker holding both legs in place by the calves.

Chris let out a quiet moan, his back arching as Wesker slowly pressed into him. Chris felt Wesker lean on him as the blond fully pushed into him and Chris wanted desperately to kiss Wesker through his strained pants. Chris sat up as much as he could, using the little leverage he could from the bedposts, to get as close to Wesker as he could. The blond seemed to understand because their lips were connected a moment later and just after, Wesker was pounding into Chris.

Chris moaned into the suddenly wanton and completely out of sync kiss. Tongues thrashed, teeth clashed, and lips engulfed eachother in the passion but neither cared. Chris wanted to grasp desperately at Wesker but the ropes refused him despite all the pulling and yanking. His wrists were growing red and they most likely were in pain but Chris couldn't feel it as Wesker pounded helplessly into Chris's more than accepting body.

They broke the kiss to breathe but their breaths mingled, Wesker's tasting like scotch despite the fact that he rarely drank and Chris's tasting like peppermint. Their scents mixed awkwardly but so erotically that the two were connected in a kiss moments later, unable to separate for too long considering Wesker was still plunging deep into Chris over and over again.

They stayed like this for ages, Wesker thrusting aimlessly into Chris while kissing eachother desperately. Every once and a while, they would be forced to break from eachother for air and Wesker would focus his lips on the next available skin, usually Chris's neck. He would bite, suck, and lick until Chris was ready and they would continue the kiss.

Chris, over the pervious months, had built up a sort of resilience that could match Wesker's when it came to sex. Due to this, it took a good long while before both of them were panting and feeling dangerously close to the edge. They broke apart minutes ago, Chris's head now laying back on the pillow in utter exhaust while Wesker's forehead was resting on Chris's perspiring chest. Both were sweating and glowing in the candlelight surrounding them, their shining bodies sliding effortlessly against eachother before Chris finally gave in.

His back arched dramatically, pulling harshly at the ropes that had already rubbed his wrists raw. White strings of cum shot from Chris and coated both of their stomachs. Chris wasn't even finished before Wesker gave in as well, biting onto Chris's shoulder as he groaned into the skin. Chris shivered and moaned as he slowly came down from his high of the orgasm, Wesker licking lovingly at the skin that he marked.

Wesker released Chris's legs and reached up to untie Chris's arms. He did it without removing himself from Chris, and once both arms were free, Chris removed the blindfold from himself.

The first sight he saw was Wesker's smirking face, his chin resting on the top of his right hand and looking up at Chris from his chest. Chris couldn't help but smile before glancing at his wrists.

"The next time you decide to tie me up, use something that won't leave marks," Chris said as he touched the sensitive skin and hissed quietly.

"I chose rope for a reason," Wesker said quietly.

"Of course you did. You do everything for a reason because you're Albert Wesker," Chris muttered absentmindedly.

"Or I simply like to mark you in different ways. You'll enjoy trying to hide those tomorrow."

"A long sleeved shirt should do it," Chris said with a small shrug.

"I wasn't talking about your wrists, Pet," Wesker smirked before eyeing Chris's neck.

"How bad is it?" Chris groaned as his hand went to his sensitive neck, feeling the bite marks that were on his shoulder before moving to the various spots he was sure would show the events of that night.

"As I said, you'll enjoy _trying_ to hide it," Wesker chuckled.

Chris didn't have any dreams after that and he noticed that Wesker seemed to stay around longer during the following weeks. Soon after, the two had moved in together, Wesker moving in with Chris of course, and still the dreams had not returned. Sensual moments between the two were still rare but they happened and when they did- well, they sure did enjoy it.

* * *

**Gotta say, I'm not entirely sure I like the ending but I needed to end it off somehow. I didn't want Wesker to just have a nice little one liner and that's it. Right so, I'm purposefully choosing prompts simply because I need some sort of direction when it comes to writing. As I said before, I'm taking requests. If you want something done, you can just review or message me your idea and I'll do it if I can.**

**Hope you guys enjoyed it and hopefully, I'll be able to update this a little more frequently.**

**Also, get ready for holiday oneshots. Can't wait to throw mistletoe over Chris and Wesker and just wait patiently.**

**~Raven**


	3. Office Holiday

Disclaimer: Usual stuff of not owning a darn thing and pretending to be happy about it. Capcom owns Resident Evil and all the included characters.

**Author's Note:** Well, I've been on quite the oneshot kick lately. Probably because I should be doing finals instead of writing fanfiction but hey, I'm in college—our priorities are supposed to be screwed up. Also, another oneshot devoted to **Farore-Nara** because we both need some Christmas cheer!

* * *

**Office Holidays**

Holidays, no matter what it was, were usually busy around the police office. Officers were running around, trying desperately to keep up their holiday cheer while dealing with sudden increases of drunkards and deranged homeless on top of the normal Raccoon City delinquents.

This meant, naturally, the treasured S.T.A.R.S team rarely had anything to do so celebrating holidays was a big deal for them—well, most of them.

**New Years**

They didn't work New Years but the previous year involved an office party that went rather badly. Captain Wesker remained in his office, only leaving for a cigarette when the stress or music got too much to bear. Joseph, Enrico, and Forest were all playing barmen, mixing drinks and offering some rather odd concoctions to some of the party attendees. Kenneth and Edward mingled but soon vanished, most likely leaving to avoid the chaos. Richard was one of the few who didn't get drunk and ended up being most of the taxis home for the other officers. Barry shared the job, considering his wife accompanied him, and the two ended up having to drag a drunken Brad into one of the back offices to sleep because of how strongly he insisted on sleeping _on_ Rebecca. Rebecca avoided any sort of alcohol and, instead, tentatively drank juice behind Jill most of the night. Chris remained beside Jill, a single beer in hand, but couldn't help from looking into his Captain's office every once and a while.

"Just go in there and offer him a drink," Jill encouraged, nudging him and holding up a new beer to Chris to offer to Wesker.

"I don't know if I should. He's working—"

"It's a party, you know he should be relaxing like the rest of us," Jill countered, looking around at the coworkers who seemed to be enjoying, and some _over _enjoying, themselves.

"Captain Wesker isn't the type to relax. Besides, if he was going to drink, he wouldn't drink a beer."

"How do you know that?" Enrico asked from several feet away, his hands offering the rather large display of alcohol before him. "Pick one you think he would like."

"I'm not going in there. If anything, you should go," Chris shot at Enrico who laughed and shook his head.

"I have a job to do, kid."

And that was that.

Nobody bothered the captain and the party was over by one—though Wesker was nowhere to be found before eleven.

**Veterans Day**

Veterans day was the next holiday they actually celebrated because there were so many victims of war that were related to the officers from the precinct. Not to mention, Chris personally felt it important but it wasn't proper to have an office party so, instead, they settled on an office barbeque located at a park not too far from work.

Again, everyone had their own role.

Joseph and Enrico were in charge of cooking the food, Forest watched in case something caught on fire (nobody was really trusting Joseph or Enrico with the food), Rebecca was in charge of games, and of course, most of the precinct was currently playing those games—except for Captain Albert Wesker who was sitting at a picnic table with a plastic red cup of juice and papers from the office.

The park itself was beautiful, practically empty since it was a Thursday and most people were at their own homes with their families celebrating. Some of the officers were playing with frisbees while others were playing some of the games that Rebecca set up. All in all, most of them were having fun—

Except, of course, a certain worried male brunet and his companion who was, again, pushing him to talk to their captain.

"He just looks lonely," Chris muttered from across the park, his eyes on the black figure who was completely ignoring the coworkers around him.

"Captain Wesker prefers to be alone; you know that from the Fourth of July picnic we tried to do. Do I have to bring up that failure?"

"Wesker already did," Chris muttered to her as he put the plastic cup in his hands to his lips to take a sip.

"I don't know what to tell you, Chris. Either get over your little man-crush you have on the captain or do something about it," Jill stated firmly causing Chris to glance at her. "Don't look at me like that, I'm not stupid."

"Everyone else is," Chris muttered under his breath as he took another drink out of awkwardness.

"No, not everyone but now isn't the time to bring that up," Jill said quickly before getting back on the subject at hand. "How long?"

"A while now, I guess," Chris responded almost robotically. "Stupid, isn't it?"

"It really is," Jill said with a chuckle. "At least you have a goal."

"Captain Wesker isn't a goal; he's a—"

"-Very good listener."

The dark voice made both S.T.A.R.S members jump and turn to see the man, in question, standing behind them. He adjusted his sunglasses, surprisingly needed for how sunny of an afternoon it was, and smirked at the two.

"Now, what were you saying?"

"A-Absolutely nothing, Captain," Jill stated, her voice audibly shaken up. "I'm going to go play—" the game she muttered was lost to both men as she turned and rushed off towards Rebecca, most likely to tell her everything.

"Heh, I should probably—"

"I'm leaving. I see no point in remaining here any longer. If Enrico asks to know where I am, simply tell him I returned to the office."

"But—" Chris bit his lip but nodded with a quiet, "Yes, Sir."

**Thanksgiving**

Thanksgiving was another holiday the office loved to celebrate despite how terribly some of the past experiences with holidays _in_ the office went. It was Wednesday night and everyone who was eating—not Wesker—brought their own plate of Thanksgiving classics. The food was spread out from taking over the S.T.A.R.S office to even spreading through the front hall where they had most of their celebrations anyway.

And yet again, Captain Albert Wesker remained in the office on the phone with someone talking feverishly to them. The team could tell simply from looking through the glass not from how Wesker's mouth moved, because it rarely opened more than it needed to when speaking, but the way his jaw clenched and the constant rubbing at the bridge of his nose, pushing his sunglasses up, was what gave it away.

"Does he never enjoy himself?" Chris asked as he set aside the plate of food he originally got for himself and, instead, sat on his desk.

"The captain is supposed to be busy all the time, right? Isn't that why we never see Chief Irons?" Rebecca asked from beside him.

"Chief Irons is never here because he's a jackass," Jill muttered, pushing her food away as well at the mention of him.

"Hey!" Enrico called from across the room.

"Sorry!" Jill called. "My first day, he came onto me and, ever since, decides to use demeaning pet names whenever we come in contact. I haven't personally submitted my reports to him in months," Jill explained to the two who shook their heads in response.

"Maybe that's who he's talking to," Rebecca suggested, taking tiny bites at her food as if she feared it would eat her back.

"He would've just gone down to his office if it was Irons; he would get more privacy that way. I mean look at us, we're staring at him shamelessly," Jill said, her attention going to Brad who had far too much food piled onto the paper plate he was holding and ended up dropping it.

"Chris does it all the time, I'm sure he's use to it by now," Barry said, passing by casually.

"Can we not have a conversation without someone having a comment on a subject they know nothing about?" Chris shouted after him causing the older male to grin.

"Not really. That's why we have all been dead silent for the past three minutes listening in," Richard stated from his desk, across the room, with a chuckle.

**Christmas**

Christmas Eve was where they were now. Jill and Rebecca had set up for the S.T.A.R.S team to have a Secret Santa give away and, of course, Chris picked Albert Wesker out of the pile of names. Chris had the sneaking suspicion that the entire pile had Wesker's name on it but he didn't care enough to actually bring it up. Unfortunately, he didn't actually think about just how hard it would be to find Albert Wesker a Christmas present until he had gone to countless shopping stores and still came out with nothing.

And then, of course, he thought of the perfect present—one that Captain Albert Wesker could use, appreciate, and possibly cherish.

It was absolutely perfect.

The groups did their exchanging, Barry getting Chris's name so Chris ended up with a new handgun holster which fit his thigh better than his previous one. Unfortunately, nobody told Albert Wesker of their gift giving so he wouldn't feel pressured to buy any of his team members a gift so when the captain exited the Christmas party for a cigarette, Chris eagerly followed.

Chris tailed the blond all the way to the roof, waiting a few extra seconds to go through the door to the cold outside world. Wesker, unlit cigarette between his lips and lighter in his hand, turned to look at Chris who greeted him with a smile and a quiet, "sorry to bother you, Captain," before walking completely onto the roof.

It was dark and most of the light came from the rooftop lights combined with the streetlamps. It was dangerously cold, far too dangerous for Chris to not be wearing a jacket. The cold air bit anxiously at Chris's wet and bruised lips from all the biting he had done throughout the party but he was finally ready to give Wesker his present.

"What are you doing out here without a jacket, Redfield?" Wesker asked carefully after lighting the cigarette and inhaling the warm smoke.

"W-Well, I saw you leaving and I didn't have much time to grab my jacket. I'm fine, though," he quickly added as he saw the blonde's eyebrow rise behind his sunglasses.

"Then get on with it before you freeze," Wesker muttered, taking the cigarette from his lips between his middle and forefinger.

"I've watched you all year, Captain," Chris began though he was quickly cut off by a scoff.

"I'm well aware, Christopher."

"I told you to call me Chris," the brunet groaned before shrugging. "I just mean that I've noticed how on events like these, you don't have any fun."

"What sort of fun is there to be had? Drinking and eating with coworkers who I see every day?" Wesker asked, taking another inhale from the cigarette.

Chris, meanwhile, was beginning to lose feeling in his fingers and he could barely feel the present in his hand behind his back. His lips had to have been visibly turning blue by now with the worried look that Wesker was giving him.

"We're a family, Captain, and I know you may not believe that but we have a sort of trust in each other that you just can't have with normal friends. We save each other d-day in and day o-out," Chris said, trying desperately to ignore the chattering of his teeth.

"I don't have a family," Wesker muttered, eyeing the cigarette in between his fingers, "This sort of trust that you claim we have is there because if it wasn't, we would all be dead."

"You don't have a f-family?" Chris closed his mouth fighting his chattering because it really was beginning to ruin the moment that the brunet desperately wanted with Wesker.

"No, I don't."

"W-Well, neither do I—at l-least not here. My sister is off at college and my parents d-died when I was a k-kid," Chris said sadly as the thought of his sister began looming over him. "T-That's why I w-wanted to give y-you th-this."

That is when Chris held out the neatly wrapped package. It was a rectangle box wrapped in black and blue wrapping with a tag that read '_Captain Albert Wesker: The one who deserves it more than anyone_'. Wesker took another drag off his cigarette, his eyes flashing back and forth from the present to Chris, before he exhaled the smoke, crushed the cigarette head against the wall and flung it over the side of the building.

"This is for me?" Wesker asked carefully before grabbing it.

"I-I hope you like it," Chris stated, unsure if his stuttering was now from the nervousness or from the cold air. "I-I had to talk to B-Barry to g-get to the r-right place and th-they didn't w-want to do it u-until I told them w-who it was f-for."

Maybe the stuttering was from both?

Either way, Wesker hesitantly opened it, as if it was the first present he'd ever gotten. He slowly tore the wrapping, almost sadly as he eyed the tag. The wind blew, reminding Chris just how numb he was growing, and Wesker tossed the wrapping aside eyeing Chris as he opened the present.

Inside was a single knife: the blade was completely untouched with notches on the lower side and the S.T.A.R.S logo imprinted on the base above where the black handle was attached. Wesker removed his sunglasses, pocketing them in his shirt as he looked from Chris to the box.

"I already have a—"

"I know y-you already have a knife b-but not one that's c-c-custom made. It has y-your initials on the bottom of the handle and the S.T.A.R.S logo. I-I mean i-if you don't w-want it, I guess I c-could always—"

"No, no. That's not necessary. I just—I don't have anything for you," Wesker muttered almost absentmindedly, his eyes on the shivering brunet.

"W-Well isn't that t-the point of a g-gift? B-Besides, I d-don't r-really n-ne—"

Whether Wesker just got tired of listening to Chris stutter or he truly wanted to give Chris _something_, Chris didn't know. What the brunet did know was their lips were touching and within the five seconds it had been, Chris was already warming up. Wesker tasted of cigarettes but Chris truly did not mind. In fact, it was a taste that seemed to warm his mouth further even as their cold lips opened and explored one another. Wesker's gloved hand, that wasn't holding the box, rested on Chris's right hip to pull the cold brunet closer. Chris used this opportunity to push himself fully against his captain, the body warmth enough to bring feeling back to his extremities while also making him quite light headed at the same time.

"Well, that was a pretty good present," Chris muttered breathlessly as he had broken from the blond to breathe.

"I would hope so," Wesker stated with a smirk before eyeing the door. "Perhaps we should return. We may be missed," he suggested almost sadly as Chris hesitantly stepped away, nodding.

"I-yeah—Yeah, we should," Chris said despite thinking the exact opposite.

Wesker nodded and began towards the door but Chris stopped him by calling his name.

"Hey Captain?" He started, following him.

"Yes, Christopher?"

"I _told_ y—Ah, whatever. I was wondering—are you doing anything tonight? After the party, I mean," Chris asked hesitantly.

"I had no plans," Wesker responded truthfully.

"Would you like to go out… with me, I mean. Would you go out with me?"

"Is that really proper? I _am_ your boss and I don't really think it's very appropriate."

"There aren't any rules against it and I think we're both adult enough to be able to handle it if things ever went sour," Chris defended carefully as Wesker sighed.

"Chris, I really don't think—"

"You deserve to have something you enjoy, Albert," Chris said quietly.

It took a long moment of Wesker staring intently into Chris's eager blue eyes that reflected so much of everything he liked about the brunet. The courage, strength, determination— All the things that made him hire Chris in the first place.

"When does the party end, then?" Wesker asked hesitantly causing Chris to grin happily.

**New Years**

Chris and Wesker ended up spending Christmas day together. Originally, neither had any intention of it, but after talking all night with wine and, eventually, scotch, things were bound to happen. However, it was surprisingly not awkward when both awoke beside each other, one very sore and the other very amused. They had grown a sort of bond (within those few days) that they only sometimes carried into the workplace.

Chris still had to call Albert 'Captain' around the office but after-hours and at each other's homes, it was Albert. They also equally agreed that keeping public displays of affection in the workplace to a minimum was best for the entire office. However, that did not mean Chris wouldn't sneak a kiss or two whenever he could—out of prying eyes, of course (which was usually Jill, Rebecca, or, surprisingly, Richard).

Now, it was New Years and, just like the year before, Albert Wesker was in his office. The difference was, he was accompanied by a young Chris Redfield who was begging for well…

"It's a tradition!"

"It is stupid."

"It's a stupid tradition—it doesn't mean I don't want to do it. This is the first year ever that I'll be able to! Besides, it's after hours."

"That does not mean I want to announce to the entire precinct that we are sleeping together," Wesker bit back as he opened the folder in front of him to begin working on—well—work.

"Everybody already knows, Albert! Nobody cares," Chris fought back, pulling the folder away from him.

"It has been a week. How could the entire office possibly already know?" Wesker asked, allowing the brunet to take the folder away, close it, and file it into a pile of papers that it didn't belong in.

"Jill."

"Right, silly me. I actually assumed you would attempt to keep us a secret," Wesker muttered as he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"I didn't tell her. She saw us in the hallway on Friday. Besides, they would have found out eventually."

"Chris, if I say yes will you leave me alone?"

"After we do it, yes," Chris said proudly.

"Fine, fine."

Chris jumped to his feet and rounded Wesker's desk, taking him by the arm and dragging him out of the office.

"You actually got him to agree?" Jill asked with a chuckle as she received a glare safely behind sunglasses.

"Yeah, I told you I could," Chris stated, releasing Wesker.

"According to Chris, you are the reason the entire office knows about us," Wesker said to Jill, ignoring their conversation and, of course, the look on Chris's face.

"I-I didn't, Captain," Jill said, a bit dumbfounded.

Wesker smirked and opened his mouth to speak but Rebecca spoke, instead.

"Every one, the countdown is about to start!"

"We'll talk about this later," Jill growled to Chris before disappearing.

"And so will we," Wesker stated as he turned to Chris. "Why were you so intent on doing this?" Wesker asked quickly.

"10, 9, 8, 7-" The room counted, their eyes on a nearby clock. Wesker and Chris, however, were staring intently at each other.

"I just never want to forget this moment. I want to try to make it as memorable as I can," Chris said simply.

"6, 5, 4."

"You may regret that."

"3, 2—"

"Maybe."

"1."

Who knew their lips connecting would draw collective gasps from around the room? Who knew Rebecca would start clapping before, eventually, Brad, Richard, Jill, and even Barry joined in? Who knew in less than a year, Albert Wesker would betray them all?

None of them knew which is what made that moment perfect, if just for a long moment where neither of them listened to the gasps or the claps or thoughts of the unexpected future. It was a moment of peace and utter serenity where their lips connected and nothing else mattered-

For now.

* * *

**I've been really sappy lately with these two.** **I may do a dark story just to change it a little. Also, this is my first drabble without a prompt so I'm a bit happy. However, I actually really like using prompts.**

**Also, some of you didn't know this but I do have a tumblr under FatalYaoi. I post some fanfictions there sometimes and other things so if you're interested, you can follow me. I'm also on Archiveofourown under the same name.**

**I hope you guys enjoyed the holiday fluff- for now, I'm off to register for classes and perhaps start on a bit of a darker story.**

**Perhaps a new series?**

**~Raven1050**


	4. Misguided

Author's Note: **This was a request from Doom-Overlord on Tumblr! Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy it! This is completely AU and written while I'm sick so be gentle. It's also not as long due to the request and I have altered it slightly because having Wesker unknowingly tell things about his past just wouldn't happen. Chris would have to pry it out of him or someone would have to punch it out of him—most likely, again, Chris.**

* * *

**Misguided**

Silence flooded the room.

Chris had his eyes on Wesker, glistening in disbelief despite the nonchalant shrug Wesker gave to the question.

The two S.T.A.R.S members were standing in their living room neither knowing what to say. Chris had found official documents from Umbrella that he simply couldn't let slip. Albert Wesker's name was everywhere and the blond simply shrugged when confronted.

The duo had been together for the past two years; Chris had immediately taken a liking to the blond and truly couldn't hide his feelings when the Captain was around. The brunet knew Wesker didn't feel as strongly about him at the time but Chris thought (hoped) it was different now. He thought after everything the two experienced—

That didn't matter or it shouldn't have mattered.

"What was the Wesker Project, Albert?" Chris asked again, his voice louder and clearer.

That was a heavy question if the blond had ever heard one but Chris didn't understand quite what he was asking. It was as serious, possibly more so, as asking 'who were your parents' or 'what was your childhood like'. Wesker wasn't very open about his past and Chris did his best to understand but it had been two years and the two had been through far too much. The blond started to open up several months before; slowly at first but more and more. However, _this_ was never brought up.

"I don't believe that is your business, Christopher."

"Umbrella is doing all of this, Albert. You can't possible condone them—"

"I don't only disregard their actions, I assist them quite frequently."

"I can see that," Chris hissed, waving the documents in his hand before tossing them onto the coffee table.

"The Wesker Project was a very long time ago. I assumed all data had been erased concerning the subject."

"You're wrong. I haven't opened that document yet, Wesker, so you have a single chance to be honest with me. What was the Wesker Project?"

The blond eyed the large folder filled with documents that Chris had stolen during their last security breach at the headquarters of Umbrella Corporation. Albert remained silent and ignored the look of disgust infecting Chris.

"Fine."

Chris leaned down to open the folder.

"Stop, Christopher. You don't understand what you're asking."

"There is a project named after you and you don't believe I have the right to question it?" Chris asked, straightening to look at the blond.

"I did not say that. I simply implore you to consider what could happen if you open that file. We would lose everything."

"I would rather live in pain truth than in a lie, Wesker."

The blond grew silent and allowed Chris to open the file, giving him a short amount of time to read it. Chris's face distorted, quiet gasps escaping his lips every once and a while. By the time he was finished, he was settled on the sofa, though he couldn't recall sitting. He looked to Wesker whom hadn't moved since Chris began and decided against moving even as Chris looked at him—he just couldn't meet his gaze.

"You've worked for them…"

"I believe it's best that you leave," Wesker stated quickly.

"I live here, Albert. I'm not leaving. You work for them even though they almost killed you?"

"That report—"

"It isn't a report. They want to recover the project, did you know that?"

Wesker remained deathly silent.

"You did?"

"I wasn't a part of the project or the consideration to revive the project. I don't work at the Headquarters, Christopher."

"Don't say my name. Not right now," Chris hissed, standing before setting the folder on the couch. "You don't even realize how many lives were lost during that time, do you? This project has killed so many… and they want to revive it?"

"There's a group of us left alive though some are doing better than others. We don't keep in contact nor have we been in contact."

"Thirteen children…"

"Three possibly four remaining."

"I don't even know what to say," Chris muttered, his eyes ghosting over the unaffected features on Wesker's face. "Umbrella funds the Police Force, S.T.A.R.S, hell, even Raccoon City! Everyone—our friends, colleagues, me—is in danger and you don't care."

"You don't understand, Christopher. We've been working on this research for years."

"This Progenitor Virus that they injected the children with… Do you have it?"

"I have a small dose in my blood stream. If I was to inject more, it would show in physical ways."

"They brainwashed you," Chris muttered with a sigh. "How could you possibly justify accepting that? Spencer wanted minions—"

"He wanted a new breed of humans, one that was worthy of living."

"And you agree with this insane conception?" Chris asked in abhorrence.

"I created it."

"Have you been lying to me this entire time?"

"I have been untruthful about my job. Everything beyond—"

"Wesker."

"I care for you, Christopher."

"They want to destroy everything, Albert! Your _plan_ is going to destroy everything! If you continue like this, we, as a couple, will not survive. What did you expect? You would follow whatever _they_ said and hope for the best?"

"There isn't a way out, Christopher."

Chris couldn't stop staring at the blond in disbelief. He showed no sign of emotion, no sort of empathy or regret. Even as Albert stared, blue eyes to brown, Chris saw nothing until the blond had admitted caring for the brunet. Beyond that, the blond simply seemed dead.

"If there was, would you want to?"

"Umbrella is—"

"—Evil, corrupt, in need of new management—"

"—My home."

Chris sighed and turned on his heel, Wesker's unresponsive demeanor worrying Chris even farther. The brunet couldn't sit and watch the blond do this to himself; even if said blond wasn't aware of the crucial situation.

"This is your home, Albert. These past two years, do you realize how many times you've saved me?"

"Why would I possibly count—"

"Eighty-nine. Ninety if you count the time we took Brad out shooting."

"I certainly include that," Wesker muttered with a smirk.

Chris simply could not stop pacing. Wesker was almost exactly the same while talking on normal subjects but shifted personalities completely when his past was suddenly brought up. Umbrella had affected him far more than anyone could have seen.

"How many times have I saved you, Wesker?" Chris asked carefully, eyeing the blond.

"Twelve."

Chris smiled dolefully, "Not as much as you but you're alive. You have to trust me, Albert. I want to help you."

Wesker's silence made Chris cautiously approach him and take him by the arm. Slowly, he guided him towards the sofa where he sat and motioned for the blond to follow. Reluctantly, Wesker did.

"Do you want my help?"

"Chris, if I was in trouble—"

"Let me put it another way. I love you, Albert." In two years, it had been the first time the three significant words were used. "If you don't want me to get up, pack my things, and leave, you're going to have to make a choice. I want to help you and I will take them down with or without you. I would rather it with you."

"What would you like to know?"

Chris sighed quietly at the indifference in Wesker's voice and stopped himself from walking away. He couldn't possibly just leave Wesker—not when the situation was so dire.

"Start with your childhood. According to the summary, they stole children. You were taken from your parents."

"I don't recall."

"You were young, I guess you wouldn't. You don't remember anything about them?" Chris asked quietly, his arms setting comfortably on his thigh as tried desperately to keep his eyes on the blond.

"I have my mother's eyes."

"That's a start," Chris said, his eyes glancing to Wesker's in a loving way. "Anything else?"

"I don't recall," Wesker repeated.

The blonde's gaze remained on the empty wooden coffee table. Chris had never experienced such a frigid conversation with Albert. Even their fights had more yelling than awkward silence and never had Wesker responding in such an indifferent manor. At first, Chris assumed the blond didn't care due to his indifferent nature but he began noticing two small things that alerted him of the blonde's true feelings; his eyes and his words.

"Alright. Do you remember anything about the other children or being imprisoned?"

"Spencer introduced me to Alex after a few months. Most of the children were gone but we had survived. I was superior and Alex was upset. Spencer convinced me he was envious."

"What a thing to be jealous of," Chris sighed and Wesker glanced at him.

"My blood was superior. My chance of survival was much higher than anyone else."

"Alex wasn't jealous; he just didn't want to die."

"Nor did we want to disobey Spencer. He was like a father to us all at the time," Wesker explained.

"How was he like a father to anyone? He was the one killing all of you."

"We weren't able to see it like that."

"And now?"

Wesker remained quiet and Chris exhaled heavily.

"You can't believe he's still—"

"I don't. I don't consider him anything to me. However, he did what he needed for the research he conducted."

"You condone him kidnapping hundreds of children for experiments?"

"I simply agree that the research was important and would not have worked another way."

"Would you do the same as he did if you were put into his position?" Chris asked carefully trying, with all his power, to not shake the blond or possibly even punch him.

"I have been put into that position, Christopher; multiple times. I have never been given a choice."

"Albert Wesker doesn't accept orders he doesn't want to do. You are far too stubborn for that, Albert."

"My name isn't Albert Wesker. Wesker was given to all the children because the director of the project's surname was Wesker. However, he is dead."

"Did you kill him?" Chris asked, unable to comprehend the simple tone behind Albert's words.

"Recently, yes."

"Wasn't he the one who offered to restart the project?" Chris questioned, pulling the folder into his lap. Wesker put a hand onto the pile of papers, pulling Chris's attention from the pages to the blond.

"He was. That folder, as far as I'm concerned, never existed."

"So you—"

"I have been working both for and against Umbrella with the assistance of S.T.A.R.S. I've been given a new mission from Spencer, however, and I believe you're correct. Everything will be destroyed."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"You cannot possibly understand the difficulty behind my actions."

"I do, though. He's been your mentor, practically your father, since you were a child. He never did anything to you directly so, as a child, you looked up to him unknowing that he was the one who ordered everything done to you and the other children."

"You don't know—" Wesker tried to cut the brunet off but Chris continued.

"So now, you are faced with an issue. This man almost killed you and brainwashed you in the process. You acknowledge he's done both of those things but you've been raised to please him. I understand." Chris stopped and looked at Wesker who had his eyes shut painfully tight but continued. "I wasn't brainwashed but I sure as hell had to make a choice when faced with something similar. Albert, even after growing up dreaming of being in the military, I chose what was right. You've read my background. Hell, that's why you hired me."

Chris sighed and moved closer to the blond allowing their knees to touch.

"You can't keep lying to yourself. You need to get out and I'll help you but first you have to understand everything you've been told not to believe. I'm hoping, if you hear them from me, it'll help."

"It has."

It was a whisper and Chris swore, for the first time since the two had known each other, a tear escaped the blonde's eye. This surprised Chris because Albert had been shot before and, even then, he just looked at Chris and demanded to be taken to the hospital in some sarcastic way. Now, however, Chris had just told Wesker that the countless years the blond had put into Umbrella and everything he had done for Spencer was wrong. Albert may have been a proper, well versed man on the outside but on the inside... Well, he was generally the same but Chris saw far more than that.

That's why nothing would stop the brunet from getting Albert as far from that place as he could and that began with the Spencer Mansion.


	5. Lucky Thirteen

**Author's Note: Another prompt from the wonderful doom-overlord! This will be a relatively short oneshot, much like the last one, and may or may not include much of anything. It's a rambly type of drabble that could have had some smut just for entertainment but didn't.**

**Also, I'll clarify that Dangerous Drabbles is NOT any sort of series that's just out of order. They are oneshot drabbles that all belong to their own universe unless I STATE OTHERWISE. That means they will not all be long, they will not all be short, they may not all be smut, they may not all be requests or prompts- they are just random stories that I felt like posting.**

* * *

**Lucky Thirteen**

Albert Wesker would never say that he was lucky, that was a matter of perspective. Though, lying beside the gorgeous brunet made him consider it momentarily. Despite the things he had sacrificed and the trials Umbrella had pushed him through, he would do it again. Possibly not for the brunet beside him, that would just plain thick, but for himself because he was meant to succeed.

Over the years, Ozwell E Spencer had said many things but '_you will do great things_' was the single most spoken sentence and Wesker believed it possibly more than anything.

Albert released a quiet sigh as he pushed the thought of Spencer from his mind. It had been mere hours since he and Chris had sex and pondering his upcoming betrayal would do him no good. The blond could feel the awkward anguish radiate from the brunet whenever the two were caught in silence but Albert simply could not say a thing, even if Chris knew there was _something_ wrong.

The blond eyed the brunet through the shadows of the moonlight and sighed when he saw Chris, subconsciously, tighten his grip on the blonde's arm which had been tucked over his side to keep him warm. Unfortunately, being back to front was far from enough to keep the brunet warm due to Wesker's silky cold black sheets and he frequently turned to Wesker to warm him.

And of course, Albert Wesker did.

Now, however, he was being held captive by the brunet and he truly did not want to wake the S.T.A.R.S member. After several minutes of attempting to snake his arm from the brunette's grasp, he exhaled in defeat and huddled closer to Chris.

"Wake up, Pet," Albert muttered, nudging the brown hair that tickled his cheek with his nose to further stir the brunet.

"Nng—What?" Chris groaned, ignoring the abnormally delicate approach Wesker seemed to take in the situation.

"Release my arm," Wesker stated carefully.

"Oh, sorry," Chris mumbled. The brunet immediately released Albert's arm and shifted to his opposite side when the blond stood. Chris watched him cross the room before, inevitably, losing his battle to sleep.

Albert made his way through his shadowy hall where he found and opened his linen closet. Inside were countless sets of the same, exact, black silk sheets and a single extra blanket bought and kept only for Chris. It was black, matching the sheets almost perfectly but the material was fleece making it, automatically, stand out from Wesker's sheets and prohibiting it from a permanent place on his bed. He clutched the blanket and pulled it from the top of his mound of sheets, allowing it to fall out of fold once in his hand.

Unsurprisingly, Chris's scent suddenly blew past him in the light breeze created from the moving blanket. A large part of the blanket fell from the higher shelf and forced the intoxicating smell into Wesker's senses sending a small pang of guilt through him.

If he was absolutely truthful, Albert did not want to leave Chris.

Chris had been the one part of his life that had yet to abandon him and he intended to keep it that way. A slight twitch of anger came and left at the thought of William, his only friend, but the moment was gone and the scent of Chris relaxed him far quicker than it should have.

Upon returning to his bedroom, a soft snore filled the room and the blonde sighed at Chris's lack of control though immediately regretted the thought considering he was the reason Chris was exhausted. A smirk was planted on his lips as Wesker made his way to Chris's side and tossed the blanket over him.

It landed somewhat over him but Wesker could not possibly bring himself to push past his ego and fix it for him. Instead, he settled on allowing the brunet to awaken and fix it himself whenever Chris found it too cold to continue sleeping. Satisfied, Albert rounded the bed and just as he slipped under his beloved silky sheets, Chris spoke.

"Thank you."

"Of course."

Chris was silent following that and Wesker cursed himself that he had not even noticed the brunette's snoring cease when the blond placed the blanket on him. Within several moments, heavy breathing resumed and Wesker was able to relax. His eyes were on the ceiling and his hands cradled the back of his head comfortably.

He could not help but smirk.

It was a painful smirk, possibly filled with regret or pain but it was there.

The blond assumed it stemmed from just how unlucky he was; like he thought it was sardonically funny that he, 'lucky thirteen', was being forced to leave the one person he had ever had the fortune of falling for in the many years he lived.

Lucky Thirteen.

There was that smirk again.

It was a nickname he acquired by William. The two had laughed and joked about the subject on many occasions but Birkin had never truly known the pain Wesker had gone through or the many hours spent behind a cell. That one shot that ended so many lives—it was indescribable so Wesker had never tried. William never questioned like the good, obedient friend he was and accepted simply laughing about the matter as if any of it was funny—both men knew very well it etched Albert's future into an unknown stone somewhere but nobody spoke about it just like nobody spoke about the large number of subjects that were unable to make it through the injections.

In any case, the nickname stuck but not many knew of the unappealing term of endearment and Chris would never be one of those people.

Albert Wesker had two sides to his life and Chris just simply was not allowed to cross the line to the soon-to-be permanent side.

Albert just would not let the brunet do that to himself; even if Chris wanted to do it for Albert.


	6. Valentine's Day Massacre

**Valentine's Day Massacre**

Chris was quiet, his hands in shaky fists at his sides. He was standing, alone now, in the center of his living room. A sofa to his left a coffee table to his right, a television that was loud and playing animatedly behind him—everything seemed fine. Wesker's still hot coffee was sitting on a coaster of the glass table, steam surrounding the edges of the glass and slowly rising from the liquid inside.

The lonely male slowly felt his anger diminish when he heard the bedroom door slam with enough force to shake the walls. His body twitched at the sound and he sighed, almost afraid to move.

Chris cursed under his breath as one of his hands rose to rake through his brown hair. This was far from how it was supposed to happen and he could not help himself from fucking everything up beyond repair. He wanted to rush after Albert, offer some sort of reason for the words that were spoken in haste anger but he just did not have one. He still had to try.

"Albert…" Chris muttered, rounding the coffee table before turning into the hallway where the blond stalked off to. "Albert!" Chris shouted once he came nose-to-nose with their bedroom door. "This isn't how this was supposed to go."

No response.

"You know I love you."

No response.

"Valentine's Day isn't a big deal. I understand. I'm sorry!"

"You do not understand."

A response!

"I do though!" Chris tried desperately, suddenly inspired by the blonde's spoken words. "We're both men, you have a reputation to upkeep as Captain. I'm sorry I asked you to go out—"

"You truly don't understand."

Chris could hear the heavy, exasperated sigh in Albert's words and he realized just how unbearable they were to hear. The brunet simply could not stand fighting with Albert and he just wanted to fix whatever he had done.

"I didn't mean what I said."

"Do not lie, Christopher."

His full name had been used.

Chris groaned, his forehead falling onto the cold door with a quiet thump.

"I didn't! I was angry—"

"That is when the most truth is revealed."

"I don't doubt that you care for me," Chris said desperately. "There is some truth to what I said but if I can just explain maybe you'll understand, Albert."

Silence.

Was he listening?

"I know I'm not your first male to be… you know… but I'm your first while you've been Captain. Having to hide all feelings and emotions around the office is understandable but irritating. Like today when you came back to the office after dealing with Irons; I wanted to do everything in my power to make you feel better."

"I don't believe bending you over my desk would be proper etiquette for work, Christopher."

Chris chuckled quietly and smiled fondly at the door as if he could see straight through to Wesker on the opposite side.

"So you understand why I said it?"

"Vaguely, I suppose. Perhaps not to the extent you would expect but—"

"Shut up and come out," Chris said with a sigh before backing away from the door once movement was heard.

The doorknob jiggled as it was unlocked and the door swung open. Albert stood in a black sweatshirt and jeans, his glasses gone and his lips a thin line of indifference.

"We are still discussing this," Albert said before turning on his heel and retreating back into their room.

"I know, I know," Chris sighed, following him inside.

The bed was in the center of the room with the headboard pressed against the opposite wall from the entrance of the room. The closet was to the left of the door and to the right, pressed against a wall, was a desk complete with a desktop computer that both men used for work as well as personal use. Beside the bed sat a bedside table, small and black, and to the left of that was a wooden dresser. The carpet was grey matching the walls with black bedding giving the room a much darker look than Chris would have liked.

That, of course, meant Wesker picked it out.

Albert leaned against the desk, not bothering to sit down in the chair tucked under the workspace. The blond pulled up his sleeves and crossed his ankles and arms at the same time giving Chris an attractive view of his arms. Chris sat on the end of the bed, his arms resting on his upper thigh.

And then silence.

Chris wanted to say something—anything—but he truly did not know what to say.

"I might be a little worried… about… us," Chris muttered receiving a curt nod from Albert.

"I can see that," the blond stated. "Why?"

"We've been together for a while now and I'm getting more and more worried of your feelings for me. I don't doubt anything, really, but there are times when we don't act like a couple. We act like two people having sex."

"Well yes, that's part of a relationship."

"It shouldn't be the only part. I'm not asking for frequent dates or anything—I just hate feeling I'm only here for you to fuck."

Albert remained quiet for a moment before uncrossing his ankles to stand up straight. He turned on his heel and began rummaging through the desk drawers before pulling out a piece of paper. Chris eyed the blonde's impassive expression as he approached Chris. Albert offered the paper to him but Chris didn't take it just yet.

"What—"

"Just read it."

Chris cautiously obeyed and read the piece of printed paper.

**Your table has been reserved at **_**Chez Henri**_** for February fourteenth at seven-thirty under the name Captain Albert Wesker.**

By the time Chris looked back up, Wesker had moved back across the room and returned to leaning against the desk. Chris remained quiet as he scanned the page that was lined with hearts and other tacky designs. The piece of paper was stapled to a letter that, upon scanning, Chris saw was a personal written letter to none-other than Captain Albert Wesker.

Chris chuckled and looked up at the blond with a grin.

"You name dropped?"

"To get a particular table, yes. I also may have included a promise of increased security in the area."

"For what? This is the most expensive restaurant in town. Why would they possibly need security?" Chris asked, eyeing the letter again.

"Car thefts increase."

"That's pretty damn smart," Chris said before standing. The smile stayed planted on his face as he inched towards Albert. "I'm sorry."

"I can see that," the blond stated with a smirk.

"I was wrong."

"Well, yes."

"Should I start getting ready?"

"Yes."

Chris's grin expanded and he leaned forward, his arms wrapping around the blonde's midsection. Albert sighed and accepted the hug with his right hand and used his left to lift Chris's chin. Chris allowed the blond to guide his head and grinned when their lips touched.

* * *

"You'd think they would keep it more French in here—even it if is Valentine's Day," Chris muttered as he and Albert were guided through the restaurant to their table.

The restaurant itself was stunning underneath the streamers of red and pink, of course. There was a chandelier in the center and lit candles on every table. Most tables were crowded with couples but several were still empty, awaiting the guests yet to come. Waiters and waitresses were bustling everywhere, some carrying food while others held wine or some sort of champagne.

Albert had dressed in a suit and tie and even left his famed sunglasses at home. Chris had taken a similar route but chose a black three piece suit instead. Both of their ties were similar grey tones and neither seemed to be able to take their eyes off of each other.

"Your table," the female waitress said.

She certainly was not French but in a town like Raccoon City, it was difficult to find authentic French waitresses. Instead, she was blond and young and eyeing Wesker far more than she should have been. She handed the two their menus and left to speak to the owner who seemed to have to remind her in a very loud French accent that this was Captain Albert Wesker and his boyfriend.

"What would you like to drink?" the waitress asked once she was finished 'speaking' to the owner.

"I believe I ordered the wine when I made the reservations."

"O-Oh you did. I'm sorry, Mr. Wesker. Please forgive me, I will return shortly."

"Incompetent woman," the blond sighed once she hurried away.

"She's got her boss breathing down her neck, of course she's going to mess up."

"I suppose you know how that feels," Albert asked suggestively causing Chris to chuckle.

"A bit, yeah. Our first mission you assigned me pointman with you covering me. I knew you were testing my skills."

"And you passed."

"With flying colors," Chris added with a smug smirk.

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Jackass."

"Here is your Champagne," the waitress said, setting the bucket of ice on a small table set by a bus boy. She set the bottle she was holding into the bucket , nestling it deep into the ice, before setting the cork opener on the table and saying, "for when you're ready." She stepped back and asked, "Will you need a little more time?"

"I believe if you had given us a chance to look—"

"Yes, yes. We'll need a little more time," Chris said quickly, cutting off Albert before he could begin into a neverending rant that would inevitably belittle, insult, and scold and would end with the woman crying. Chris distantly recalled why he despised going anywhere with the blond.

"Very well. Take your time," the waitress said to Chris before turning on her heel and bustling away.

"I could have handled that."

"By making her cry?"

"She is completely incompetent, Christopher."

"She's a server, Albert. If she spills something on you or decides to be rude, that is when you can belittle her. Wait until she actually does something wrong."

Albert remained quiet and looked to the menu in his hand, instead. Chris followed suit and after a few moments, set the menu down with a huff.

"I don't know French," he stated.

The blond simply looked at him over the top of his menu.

"What?" Chris asked after a moment.

"You're lucky I do."

"I didn't know that."

"Of course you didn't. I never told you," Albert said simply. "We'll both get Streak Frites."

"What's that?" Chris asked, eyeing the wordy menu in search for the words.

"It's steak, Christopher," the blond muttered almost in disbelief. "Really, you cannot possibly be _that_ terrible."

"I didn't spend much time studying languages in school, Albert. I'm sorry I didn't go to some fancy exchange school in London."

"I didn't, actually."

"I wouldn't know. You never actually told me," Chris bit back carefully.

"I don't tend to speak of my past often," Albert said matter-of-factly.

"I've noticed."

"Are you two ready to order?"

Both Chris and Albert looked to the server whose smile wavered slightly as she slipped the pad of paper out of her pocket and held a pen to it. Chris looked to Albert and sighed.

"No. Actually, I'm leaving."

"Christopher."

"Don't bother," Chris muttered as he stood and began for the door.

"Oh dear," the waitress muttered, stepping back as Albert stood as well.

"You cannot possibly be upset because you didn't know what school I went to or what languages I know," the blond stated causing Chris to stop in the middle of two full tables.

Both tables had couples at them; one couple was halfway through their meal while the other had barely begun. Even the waitresses and waiters around them stopped to stare but after a quick look to their owner who signaled for them to not stop the heated discussion, they simple watched.

"I'm not just upset about that. You haven't told me anything about your past since we've been together. We live together, work together, fuck each other—I think I deserve to know. Hell, you know everything about me."

"I never asked for that."

"Ooh," a nearby voice stated telling both men they were being listened to and watched closely by the other guests.

Chris, at the moment, could not possibly give a damn. Instead, he stepped a single step closer to his significant other and whispered harshly, "Don't bother coming home. If you didn't care, you should have told me so I would have stopped myself from making the big mistake of trusting you."

"Perhaps you are right."

Chris smirked rigidly and he was physically shaking in anger. Instead of speaking, afraid it may come out in a horrible mess of words if he tried, he turned on his heel, grabbed the nearest wine glass (which was literally handed to him by a young red headed woman), and splashed the liquid across the blonde's face. It was red wine and Albert made no move to stop him or shield himself.

"Fuck off," Chris muttered, slamming the wine glass to the floor. He took a moment to appreciate the shattering of the glass, practically feeling the shatter through his anger. Shards scattered the floor and, without caring, Chris began walking away. He didn't bother stepping around or over the pieces and barely flinched when a piece cut through the bottom of his shoe.

But the moment he left the restaurant and cold night air blew at his face, tears stung his ears. He was never much of a crier. Hell, he had been shot, stabbed, threatened, fired from his dream job, and his parents died; never did he let a single tear leave his eyes.

A single tear slid from the corner of his right eye to the base of his cheek and he shuttered with a quiet sob.

* * *

Chris called a cab and was home within minutes. Within the cab, he had pried the small piece of glass from his foot and was happy to see the wound had already clotted. The moment he was home he walked through the front door once it was unlocked and was happy to see he was alone. Taking a step inside, he switched on a light and closed the door. He locked and used the chain lock to reassure Albert would not be able to get in. He shucked off the jacket and then the vest letting them fall somewhere near the couch.

He was pulling at the tie when his eyes fell on a picture of the two taken by Jill who just couldn't help taking the shot when she caught the two kissing. In the picture, Wesker has his arm around Chris's waist and both of them are looking at the camera; Chris is blushing but Albert is simply smiling. Jill, luckily, kept quiet about the incident but Chris always had the sneaking suspicion Jill had shared the picture with Brad before giving it to the two.

Chris sighed and pulled the picture frame forward so it fell onto the table, face down. He just could not bring himself to look at _him_ right now.

Chris left the picture and his clothes to proceed into the bedroom. He wanted to sleep, that was his goal now. He walked, hunched over, towards his bedroom and was surprised, and angry, to see the bedroom light on and the door closed. Growling under his breath, Chris shoved his shoulder into the door while simultaneously twisting the doorknob.

The door swung and hit the opposite side of the wall with a bang, causing Albert to stop and turn from his standing position in front of the bed. The dried red wine was gone from his face but his tie was spotted and, Chris assumed, so was his jacket.

"I expect you to clean up your vest and jacket," he muttered before continuing to undress. He had his tie untied around his neck and his jacket was on a hanger lying on the bed. The blond was only wearing black undershirt with the sleeves folded up in comfortable display that, quite simply, pissed Chris off.

"You fucking jackass."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm done playing your games, Wesker."

"Let me explain, Christopher," Albert said with a sigh, turning on his heel to face the infuriated brunet.

"Why should I let you insult me again?" Chris asked, tearing off his tie to toss it aside in anger.

"Let me explain," Albert repeated, just as calmly as before.

"Fine," Chris sighed, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his jacket as he sat down on the computer chair beside the desk.

"You're angry because you don't know about my past, correct?" Albert asked, his hip leaning back against the bed.

"Yeah," Chris said indignantly.

"What would you like to know?"

Chris dropped his arms from his chest and blinked at the blond in minor surprise. What was he supposed to say to something like that?

"Wait… What?"

"What would you like to know?" Albert repeated, sitting on the edge of the bed, prepared for a bombardment of questions.

"You were never this open to telling me anything and suddenly I start a fight and you're willing to tell me anything?"

"You have never asked before, Christopher. Do you truly expect me to begin exposing parts of my past that I may or may not enjoy talking about without you simply asking? If you had bothered to ask—"

"I've asked!"

"You have not," Albert snapped carefully, eyeing Chris dangerously. He stood up straight and ran a hand over his slick hair adjusting it absentmindedly while he paced several times. "I don't enjoy talking about my past," he said quietly—calmer. "If I had known you cared, I would have said something but I didn't want to bother with something so… difficult."

Chris felt horrible as he slowly realized Albert had been right. Chris had never actually asked to hear about the blonde's past and it made him assume Chris simply did not care. The brunet stood and inched towards Albert. The blond turned on his heel when he heard Chris behind him. Without thinking, Chris leaned up to kiss him and leaned in once Albert kissed back. It was a small apology kiss but it was a start. Once the two pulled apart, Chris looked at Albert expectantly and the blond sighed.

"You're forgiven."

"Can you tell me, then? About your past, I mean… It would be nice."

"Perhaps after you make it up to me," Albert smirked and continued the kiss with the brunet who was, quite clearly, excited to make up for his mistake as well as hear about the blonde's past… After their bed activities, of course.

* * *

**First of all, I hate Valentine's Day. I sincerely believe it should be renamed to Chocolate Appreciation Day because that's just so much more accurate. Anyway, I'm sorry this stupid thing is so late. I've been busy with life and whatnot. I'm really trying to belt out these stories but it isn't going well. I'm working on a prompt and the next chapter of The Fall of Umbrella.**

**Also I literally had to make myself stop playing Final Fantasy X to get this OneShot finished and posted. So hopefully it was worth it and enjoy the mushy gushy side of Chris and Wesker.**


	7. Trusting a Thief

**Author's Note: The prompt from Doom-Overlord was "Wesker feels emotions, but they're always late. He can commit crimes and only after a few days, even weeks does he feel anything." Oooh boy this was a toughie but enjoy. Thank you Emily for helping me with this!**

* * *

**Trusting a Thief**

Doctor Chris Redfield had quite a life; he was a Psychiatrist at the Raccoon City Police Department and was damn good at his job. Yes, he knew how to handle a gun as well but Chief Irons needed someone who could connect with the criminals. Most crimes in Raccoon City involved drugs and Chris was there to, essentially, help them off of said drugs and get them on the "right path".

He also had this nifty little gift of his that allowed him to know whether someone was lying or not which was mainly why he was chosen for this job.

No, he was not magical or anything of the sort—he just knew. It was easy to tell when someone was lying if you had been around enough of them and Chris had his fair share in his life.

Albert Wesker is a professional con-artist as well as thief. He, much like Chris, had quite the life as well and was damn good at his job. Normally, someone like Chris would never have interested him but Chris Redfield had done something simply unforgiveable.

William Birkin was Albert's fence and he was the best in the business. William had contacts with the CEOs of Umbrella Corporation, largest pharmaceutical company in the country; possibly the world. True, Albert certainly stayed far from the sort of drugs William was obsessed—something called G—but the Progenitor Virus was very different. Umbrella had been giving Albert tasks through William for months with promise of a Progenitor Virus sample and he was close to closing their deal when, without warning, William left the business.

Albert arrived at his and William's normal meeting place, a few miles from his condo, to find a note that simply held a name and an apology:

_Chris Redfield._

_I'm sorry._

And so the game had begun.

* * *

"Jill, when's my next appointment?" Chris asked loudly from his office. He was sitting in the corner at his desktop computer that had solitaire pulled up.

Jill Valentine was certainly anything but his secretary but she insisted on organizing his patients for him. They were close friends and, after an awkward date request, Jill was the only one who knew Chris was gay though Irons seemed quite aware.

"In about fifteen minutes if he even shows up. This is one of your follow ups—William Birkin," She stated, walking through the doorway with a clipboard in her hand.

"I don't think he'll show. What I said got to him which leads me to believe he is far from Raccoon City. Leaving the city is the only way he'll get away from the people he associated with."

"_Doctor Redfield, someone is here to see you. A new patient_," his intercom stated from beside his computer. He minimized Solitaire and pressed the button before speaking.

"Jill is on her way," he said quickly before releasing the button.

"I'm not your receptionist," Jill stated clearly glaring at the brunet.

"I know but I need to get some things together in here."

Jill sighed in defeat before asking, "Anything for lunch?"

Chris smiled as he responded, "Just get me whatever. New patients take the longest so—"

"Yeah, yeah," Jill said passively as she turned on her heel and left.

Chris chuckled and pulled out a new folder from his desk drawer. He checked to see there were empty sheets of paper inside and took one out to clip it onto the outside of the folder. He had just pulled out a pen when a figure filled his doorway and a quiet knock pulled his attention. He looked up with a smile to see a very blond, very handsome, man standing in wait. He was taller than Chris and wore a sweatshirt, dress jacket, and slacks all the same color of black. Upon his nose sat a pair of jet black sunglasses that hid grey eyes that Chris longed to see.

"Hello," Chris said with smile, standing to greet the man.

"Doctor Redfield, I presume?" the man asked, meeting Chris's hand in a strong handshake.

"I am. You are-?"

"Albert Wesker."

"Take a seat," Chris said, motioning to the leather couch pushed against the wall across from his desk.

The blond obeyed and Chris followed suit, sitting at his desk before pulling the new folder into his lap. He scribbled the blonde's name at the top of the paper and watched the man sit authoritatively. He sat in no specific way that made him look comfortable and he was rather stiff as far as Chris could tell with his back straight with his knees together. His hands sat on his thighs as if he had nowhere else to place them and, rather than smiling awkwardly like most of his patients, his facial expression was unreadable. His lips were a thin, almost cold, line and the blonde's gaze felt soulless despite Chris unable to see his eyes.

"So, Albert, what are you here for?"

"I'm a thief," the bond stated naturally as if expressing his criminal profession out of pride.

"And what do you steal?"

"What I'm paid to steal."

Chris nodded and wrote the blonde's response and crime.

"Alright, now that is taken care of, I have to ask—what are you here for?" Chris had gone through this process a thousand times before with countless patients, all with different answers.

"I'm curious, mostly. A _friend_ mentioned you _helped_ him."

"You're curious? I see. Interesting—do you plan on coming back?"

"Perhaps. Intrigue me and I may return," the blond stated with a dry smirk.

"I'll try my best. Before we continue, I have to say that everything you say in here is confidential. Unless you have hurt or plan on hurting someone, I am not required to tell any officials and will lose my job even if I try. I am not a registered therapist but have taken all the credentials—"

"I understand. You were an interrogator; it requires the same schooling as psychology does," the blond stated flatly.

"How do you know that?" Chris asked carefully, absentmindedly making a note of the knowledge on the piece of paper in front of him.

"I'm a thief who deals with high end clients. Without knowledge of how psychiatry works, how am I supposed to twist them to my will to get what I want?"

"Interesting," Chris said quietly, writing another note.

"Let's take another step back. What did you do before you were a thief?"

"I was a fence."

"Before that?" Chris asked, jotting down the notes as they were given to him.

"I don't recall and what I do, I'd rather not share."

Albert Wesker began his thieving once he left home. He traveled across the world once the rumors of Umbrella began to circulate and he simply could not resist. He was in the Unites States within the week and had not left since.

"That's fine. Maybe sometime you will," Chris gave a smile and made yet another note.

"I would not count on it."

"I never do," Chris responded with a sad smile.

Chris was surprised to see the blond smirk and give a dry chuckle.

"Alright so now that I know what made you come here and what your plans are, where would you like to get started?"

"Is that not your domain? Do you not guide the patient through the discussion?"

"I don't. It feels fake and forced. I'd rather talk about what you want to talk about," Chris said, leaning back comfortably and readying his pen.

"Tell me about yourself," the blond stated directly.

"Myself?" Chris asked in slight surprise.

"Nothing too personal, of course, I am a thief after all. I'm curious."

Chris hesitated for a moment and before shrugging with a nod.

"Alright, I suppose. I don't have children or a wife and I live alone. My chief put me as head of this project to spite me—"

"Project?"

"The idea of using psychology to help troubled individuals."

"Why did he spite you?"

Chris chuckled and shook his head. "I think that's enough about me. Do you live with anyone or have a girlfriend or children?"

"No, I tend to stay away from people that I don't work with. I did have a lover," he spoke thoughtfully, ignoring the scribbling noise of pen on paper from Chris.

"I see. Her name?"

"His, actually. William. We stopped working together recently thus ending out relationship," the blond stated emotionlessly.

"Did that affect your work?" Chris asked, looking up from the paper to glance at the blond.

"Vastly, he was my fence."

"I-I see," Chris said with a mutter.

There were only so many fences in Raccoon City named William and one that left recently—well, he didn't exactly need to ask for a last name. Chris remained calm despite the discovery and, instead, flashed a smile.

"And is he the one who referred you to me?" Chris asked confidently.

"You catch on rather quickly, Christopher."

"Please, call me Chris. Are you here to have your revenge, then?" Chris asked with a smirk.

"Of course not. Our feelings were of mutual pleasure, nothing else. He had a wife and child, I'm sure he informed you."

"Passively. Why are you here if not to exact some sort of revenge?"

"As I said, I'm intrigued by what made him leave the business. I'm intrigued on what you could possibly say to persuade me to do the same."

"I never said anything. I simply gave him his reality and he accepted help. I, of course, don't expect the same of you. If you simply want to talk—"

Albert stood and Chris followed him with his gaze. The blond sauntered towards the brunet but Chris remained in his spot, unsure if he should get up and move or question the blond. The door to his office was closed but the window was wide and most passerby cops looked inside so, with that assumption in mind, Chris was somewhat positive that the blond had no intention of hurting him.

"Talking is… mundane."

Chris remained rooted to his seat when Albert stopped in front of his chair and bent down to just above his level. A long, skinny finger lifted the brunette's chin and the hitch his in voice at the action gave the blond a smirk. With his free hand, Albert slipped the sunglasses from his nose, pocketing them before, slowly, connecting their lips; Chris's upper lip going between Albert's. The blond began to pull away after the quick contact but Chris grabbed onto Albert's coat and pulled him harder against him, turning the sensual kiss into something much fiercer. Chris felt the smirk grow against his lips but he ignored it as he enjoyed the kiss, allowing his eyes to drift shut and a quiet moan to escape his throat.

"Chris!"

Chris let go very suddenly and the blond pulled away, both gazes going to the female brunet that stood in the doorway.

"J-Jill," Chris said, looking back to the blond before suddenly standing up. "W-We should call it a day."

"You think?" the female intruded loudly, causing Chris to glare at her.

"Let me finish up, Jill," Chris said through gritted teeth.

Jill, despite holding his lunch, left and shut the door behind her but made sure to take a seat just outside of the office.

"Girlfriend?" Albert asked with a chuckle.

"N-No. She's just a friend. What—"

"Well then I suppose I should be off." The blond pulled a small card from his pocket and handed it to the confused therapist. "If you're interested. "

"Will you be back next week?" Chris asked as he looked at the number on the card.

"I believe you know the answer to that," the blond stated, striding towards the door.

"So does that mean I didn't interest you enough?" Chris said with a chuckle.

"I believe you know the answer to that as well. After all, why would you be holding a card with my number on it?" the blond asked, his hand gripping the doorknob. "It's been intriguing," he said as a goodbye before twisting his wrist and opening the door, allowing Jill to enter directly after him.

"_What_ was that?" she hissed, waving his lunch around.

"I don't know," Chris groaned, falling back into his seat. Jill sat across from him, tossing the bag beside her.

"Is that his number?" Chris looked at the card before, slowly, nodding. "Chris!" she hissed. "This is illegal!"

"N-No it isn't. I'm technically not a real therapist," the brunet muttered quietly. "He doesn't know that, though. Chief Irons threw me into this position because I was a good interrogator—_that_ is illegal."

"He has Umbrella to get him out of everything," Jill muttered with a shrug. "So what did he do?"

"I can't tell you that," Chris said with a laugh. "Doctor/patient confidentiality."

"You aren't a doctor!" Jill said quietly.

"Right… Does it still count?"

Jill gave him a look that made him sigh and hand her the folder in his lap.

"A thief? And you treated his former lover—who had a kid and a wife? Geez, this guy –" Jill muttered to herself as she read through. "He sounds kind of dangerous."

"He's just a thief," Chris muttered, his gaze on the small note card between his fingers.

"You can't call him," Jill said expectedly, looking at him after setting the folder aside.

Chris bit the side of his bottom lip and looked at Jill who rolled her eyes. "Jill—"

"You're going to do it anyways, aren't you?"

"Jill—"

"This guy isn't good for you, I'm telling you. Not only is he a thief but he looks like he could kill someone."

"'Never thought you were the type to judge people based on appearance," Chris said with a wicked smirk.

"Oh stop it. I'm sorry if I don't trust a thief," Jill snapped.

"_Doctor, Irons wants to see Jill. I'm assuming she's with you_," Chris's intercom said, springing to life.

Chris eyed Jill who rolled her eyes and nodded.

"She's on her way."

* * *

Wesker made it back to his apartment relatively quickly, slipping his sunglasses from his face and setting them on the entrance table along with his keys and phone. He stepped farther into the apartment and passed by the photograph William insisted on taking several months before. The two of them were side by side, Wesker with his hand in his pocket and sunglasses slid down his nose and William with an arm around the blonde's side.

The smirk that Albert had been sporting fell and he held back a deep sigh while staring at the picture frame.

It was his fault William left, after all. Umbrella was dangerous and threatened the man constantly because they simply did not trust Wesker. Being good at his job, it was rather easy to keep William intrigued with the jobs at hand by simply mentioning the ever Godly 'G' virus.

The blond grabbed the picture frame forcefully and launched it across the room at the wall. He gave no emotion while doing the action and simply stood up straight when the picture smashed and fell, leaving a scratch where it collided.

Albert Wesker had an issue that resulted in him being a thief—he felt guilty. It was a part of his humanistic side that he horribly despised and he hoped to rid himself of it with the Progenitor virus. He could steal all he wanted as long as he knew nothing about _who_ he was stealing from and damn he was good at it. He dreamed of the day when he could _kill_ someone and not feel the same agonizing guilt that he felt when he pulled the trigger at his father's temple.

His father deserved it. The man killed Albert's mother, after all, but still-

It crippled him; for days he sat on the floor of his flat in England, gun still in hand and blood stains across his cheek. He did not cry nor did he show any sign of emotion—he simply sat in a single spot until it broke him. How he ever came back from that, he does not know but like hell if he will go back.

Considering this, perhaps the blond _had_ fallen ever so slightly for the unbearable man that left him with nothing but a broken deal and a brand new con.

The blond cursed under his breath and ignored the broken picture frame before continuing into his room.

"_Umbrella recently donated a large sum of money to the Raccoon City Hospital. They want it back. The check is for—" William began, explaining exactly what the Umbrella representative said to him before getting cut off._

"_I don't care what the check was for. I simply want the objective," the blond stated, swirling the scotch in his glass._

_They met in a local bar, just as they did every time they had a debriefing of the task ahead. Without even asking, Wesker knew they would be going straight to his place directly after because it was their routine._

"_The check should be in a locked drawer in the Chief of Medicine's office. Get in, grab it, get out. Simple. It's a large amount and Umbrella is willing to give quite a bit to us."_

"_I don't care for their money," the blond muttered, putting the glass to his lips to take a drink._

_That night, Wesker left a nude William in his bed as he dressed and broke into the hospital as planned. People were roaming around and it was easy to get nearby the office. Beyond, it was as simple as climbing out the window of one room and slipping into the one beside it and he was in. Again, he was easily able to get into the only locked drawer at the desk within minutes. With a flashlight in one hand and the other looking at the check, a small note in the corner made his stomach drop._

_For the children. – Ozwell E. Spencer_

That had been a week before and it was looming over the blond horribly. He knew the guilt would hit—he just didn't know when and that is what angered him the most. He simply did not like being unable to control his own emotions.

The Progenitor virus could change that; it would make him faster, stronger, and virtually indestructible.

The connections between the Raccoon City Police Department and Umbrella were relatively secret and, outside of Umbrella, he and William were the only two who knew the true colors of Umbrella. The blond contemplated using it against them, if only to get their attention, but with no written proof, it wouldn't go far.

With Chris, he would not even have to bother with such things.

Now, if only the brunet would trust him.

* * *

"You can't be serious," Jill muttered with a giggle.

It was night now and the two had retired to Chris's apartment. Jill had a full wine glass in her hand and Chris, a glass of Whiskey. Jill was on her third glass, prompting Chris to remove her current glass and set it on the wooden table in front of them but he decided against it once she asked about the 'mysterious Albert Wesker'.

"It came out of nowhere. I forget what we were talking about—"

"It was _that_ good?"

Chris worried his lip and she giggled again; she was growing inebriated by the way her giggle hitched into a squeak. She pulled her legs to her chest on the couch, her toes hanging off the side of the suede couch the two were on.

"Y-Yeah," Chris muttered, his gaze going to the liquid in his glass. "The kiss was that good."

"Chris!" Jill said excitedly, her free hand gripping playfully onto his sleeve.

"Two hours ago, you told me not to trust him and suddenly you want me to mount him the next time I see him walking down the street," Chris said with a chuckle.

"I know, I know but you aren't going to listen to me anyway so I might as well enjoy it."

"What exactly are you _enjoying_?" Chris asked with a laugh.

"Chris, you've been alone for a while. I just want you to enjoy yourself and as long as you're happy, I'm happy."

"As long as you have a drink in your hand, you're happy—" Chris corrected, eyeing her as she raised the glass to her lips.

"That too," she giggled, taking a drink.

"You can't drink like that and expect to drive home," Chris said, preparing to pull the glass from her.

"I was going to stay here," Jill said with a frown.

"Without asking?"

"It's not like you're going to be here," Jill said with a smirk.

"What do you mean?"

"Call him! That's what I mean!"

Chris sighed and shook his head. "I'm starting to miss the Jill Valentine that worried for my safety more than a simple fuck."

"He may not just be a simple fuck," Jill said with a giggle. "Besides, I've dated guys more dangerous than that."

"What if he was lying?"

"You said William was his fence," Jill muttered thoughtfully, "and your patient was a fence named William. He definitely wasn't lying about that."

"There is still a possibility that he wants to kill me. I _did_ persuade his lover to leave town," Chris mulled with a slight shrug.

"The lover with a wife and child," Jill pointed out with a laugh. "That doesn't sound like it was a very committed relationship."

"It wasn't but he was also quite the fence according to his reputation around town."

"You think he wants revenge?" Jill asked carefully.

"Wouldn't you?" Chris asked with a dry laugh. "I asked him, actually."

"You asked him? What did he say?" Jill asked with a light gasp. She put the drink to her lips for another large gulp as Chris explained.

"He laughed and said no. I didn't expect him to say yes but he seemed confident when he responded."

"Well, you're the one with the lying super-power; do you think he is telling the truth?" Jill asked eyeing Chris.

"No, I don't think he was lying. He doesn't seem to be the type to waste time on revenge, especially if it doesn't benefit him and I don't know how stealing from me would be beneficent. Killing me would get him first on the suspect list and he isn't stupid."

"Well, you may not own anything expensive but getting sex is still a pretty damn good deal," Jill muttered with a smirk, "and killing you wouldn't be beneficial for him."

"So—"

"Call him!"

* * *

Chris, unlike Jill, was far from drunk despite having a glass or two of whiskey and was currently sitting in the passenger seat of a certain blonde's car. It was quiet and awkward. The blond had his eyes on the dark road and Chris, his eyes on his hands. The brunet had never done anything like this; going out with a man, full knowledge that the night would end in sex. It simply was not like him.

But Albert Wesker would be that exception.

"The brunet woman lives with you?"

The words yanked Chris from his own mind as he lifted his head towards the blond.

"What?" he asked, the question completely taking him off-guard.

"When I knocked, the woman from the precinct answered. I thought you lived alone."

"Oh, Jill. No, she doesn't live with me. She's just drunk and didn't want to risk leaving. Jill was the one who pushed me here, actually," Chris explained, his eyes on the road in front of him, now.

They were across town from where Chris lived, entering the nightlife part of Raccoon City that never seemed to die. Club after club was lined up beside each other, a line of people outside of each; some clubs even had the Umbrella Corporation logo above them. Chris snickered at the shameless advertising and moved his attention away.

Chris had never been a fan of Umbrella; he simply did not trust the company. It had full control over the city and, among that, everyone in it. When he was a cop, everything they did had to be approved by the CEO of Umbrella before any action could be taken. Most criminals were taken by Umbrella security from the police department's grasp and never seen again.

And yet nobody questioned it.

"You certainly seem amused."

"Disgusted," Chris corrected. "Umbrella is endorsing every club in town."

"You don't like Umbrella?"

"I don't trust them."

"That's a trait we seem to share," the blonde stated with a smirk.

"I can't imagine how you would even come in—oh. Right, you're a thief."

"Indeed."

* * *

The two arrived at the bar Albert chose and, when Chris saw no signs of Umbrella endorsements, he agreed. Albert walked in first, holding the door for Chris with his left hand and waving to the bartender with his right. The place was not crowded and Chris following Wesker into a booth in a corner just out of earshot of anyone else. The bartender, a tall casual male, walked over to them as soon as they sat down.

"Odd to see you back here without Birkin, Wesker," the bartender said with friendly smile.

Albert did not reciprocate the smile.

"He and I are no longer speaking."

"I see, I'm sorry."

"Our business ended. There is no reason to apologize. Can we order or would you like to continue to make my date uncomfortable?" Albert asked carefully.

"'course, 'course. I'm assuming the regular for you, Wes. Yourself?" He asked turning to Chris.

"I told you not to call me that," Wesker muttered getting a chuckle from Chris.

"Water is f—"

"Whiskey. Get him Whiskey."

"Water would be fine, Albert," Chris muttered, avoiding the shifting gaze of the bartender.

"For what we are doing tonight, I don't believe water would be enough."

"Whiskey is fine," Chris said, looking back up at the bartender sheepishly.

"'course it is. I'll be back."

The man walked away and Chris's eyes fell into his lap; he really was not the type to do something like this and he was beginning to question whether he should or not. It was dangerous in more ways than one and—

Albert leaned towards him and Chris turned his head. The blond connected his lips to the unsuspecting brunette's and Chris chuckled into the kiss. It was short but Chris pulled away with a smile.

"I never do things like this. Hell, by the time I get back, Jill will be sober and yelling at me," Chris sighed.

"Then perhaps you should enjoy your time away from her while you can."

Chris smiled and nodded just as their drinks arrived.

"Scotch for Wes and Whiskey for the new guy."

"Go away or suffer losing your tip, Adam," the blond threatened causing the man to disappear rather quickly.

"How did you know I liked Whiskey?" Chris asked, eyeing the drink as he swirled it in his hand.

"The same way you knew my preference is Scotch. You can tell, can you not?" The blond asked, putting his lips to his glass.

"I suppose. It was a pretty damn good guess," Chris said, following suit and taking a drink as well.

"As a thief, I watch details."

"What sort of details could possibly give away what I like to drink?" Chris asked with a laugh, looking at the blond in disbelief.

"You don't like silence so, when put into an awkward position you don't like, I would imagine you want something smooth and comforting. What better than Bourbon? Besides, it's not as if I just guessed what specific brand you enjoy."

"You got what I like to drink because I don't like awkward situations?"

"No, I got what you like to drink because I understand how someone like you would respond to an awkward situation."

"You have skill," Chris stated.

"I'm the best in the business," the blond stated with a smirk though he truly did not even know what it meant anymore. Before, it meant that he and William were the best in the field but now it was a simple boast that he would rather have hidden. Boasting was never his way of doing anything and he certainly was not going to start now. "I'll be back," the blond muttered, sliding from the booth with agility that Chris had never seen before.

The blond vanished towards the bathroom and Chris was left to his own devices, his eyes on his drink and the bartender's gaze on him. The bartender made his way towards the brunet and leaned down.

"I don't have a lot of time but look—I know Wesker. You look far too nice for him. What are you, a teacher?"

"Cop—er therapist. Whatever," Chris responded. "And I know about him."

"You _don't_. William got himself into some deep shit because of that man. Before meeting him, he was not the type to have an affair. Albert Wesker is more dangerous than he looks. He has the capability to kill."

"Every man does," Chris said gravely. "I understand he is dangerous."

"Last I heard he was doing deals with Umbrella. If that doesn't put it into perspective for you, I dunno what will," the bartender said with a sigh.

"That explains why he hates the company," Chris said matter-of-factly.

"Big deals."

"Like what?"

"William was worried but he was devoted. He never told me. Just be careful. Have your fun and leave, that's all I'm saying."

* * *

Albert walked into the men's restroom and leaned against the counter holding the line of sinks. He sighed and tried, desperately, to ignore his thoughts of Birkin. Both men knew how uncomfortable William was risking everything to continuously appease the largest corporation in the world and Wesker ignored him.

A shiver, beginning at the bottom of his spine, began slithering its way up Albert's back and he inhaled slowly. He tried to shake off the growing feeling, spreading as the shiver made its way to Albert's neck and remained there causing the blond to grow rigid.

He took a moment to close his eyes and fight away the thoughts before he straightened and connected eyes with his reflected self. He could see the pained guilt in his eyes—one of the many reasons why he wore sunglasses but it was eleven at night, there would be little point in wearing them.

The blond held back the want to destroy the mirror and, instead, wiped his eyes viciously and made a rushed decision within the moment.

* * *

Chris had his drink to his lips when the blond came back. Albert stopped in front of the table and pulled a small roll of money from his pocket as Chris spoke.

"What are you doing?"

"We're leaving."

Albert dropped the money on the table, shoving the rest into his jacket pocket. Chris, without much choice, agreed and climbed out from the booth. The bartender's eyes followed him towards the door and Chris met them as he followed Wesker out.

"Where are we going?" Chris asked, taking large strides to keep up with the blond on the sidewalk.

"My place, of course," the blonde chided.

"Are you okay? There's no real reason to be in such a hurry," Chris stated as the two rushed towards the blonde's car. When Wesker didn't respond, Chris took action by grabbing the blonde's arm roughly to stop him. He released his arm when Albert stopped and turned on his heel, looking at Chris expectantly. "I'm good at my job, too, and I can tell when someone has a complete and utter switch of character."

The blond remained quiet and Chris sighed, a hand going to his forehead.

"I'm going home," Chris muttered. "It was dangerous enough going out with you but I'll be damned if I'll get into any deeper shit."

"I'll explain—" the blond stated through gritted teeth. "—at my place. Not here."

"So, while going through a psychotic episode, you expect me to get into a car with you?" Chris asked carefully.

"You've come this far, have you not?" The blond asked confidently.

Chris sighed and began for the car.

* * *

Wesker led the way inside, dropping his keys on the table beside the door, replicating his usual schedule. Chris followed and closed the door behind him, moving from the doorway once Albert turned on a light.

Chris ignored the furniture and expensive looking items around him as his eyes fell on the pile of broken picture frame. He frowned and began walking towards it. Albert toed off his shoes and followed him, wanting anything but to see the picture lying face down on the wooden floor with glass splayed over it.

"What's this?" Chris asked, kneeling down to slide the picture out from the glass atop it. The blond didn't answer and, instead, sat down on the floor beside him, eyes adverting from the picture as the brunet turned it over. "Oh."

"Indeed."

"If you aren't over William, what am I doing here?" Chris asked, gaze falling onto the blond beside him.

"William and I were business partners—nothing more. Sex was simply a pastime."

"Then I don't understand. Why is this—"

"He was rather upset when I accepted a job offer from Umbrella. I talked him into—"

"You conned him into it, didn't you?" Chris asked, sitting as well.

"I did. I have an issue that only he knew of. That began our nightly visits, actually."

"Issue?"

"I have an anxiety disorder that turns guilt into a crippling fear. It's degrading, ridiculous, and—"

"It's human."

"Yes. Human," the blond muttered.

"You have flaws, Albert. You can't change that. You can strut around—yes, you strut—and pretend to be perfect but you aren't."

"Umbrella has a serum that could—"

"_That_'_s_ why you made a deal with them? A serum promised by _Umbrella_?"

"They also offered something for William."

"G. Yes, of course I know about it. The man never stopped," Chris muttered.

"He created it and Umbrella embezzled it."

"I didn't know that," Chris muttered, looking at the picture in his hand.

"Nobody does, not even Umbrella. They deleted his files for the project and someone else took the credit. Ridiculously clever, really."

"Glad you're proud of them," Chris muttered. "So this guilt that you feel, tell me about it. Maybe I could—"

"No. I've told you far too much already," Albert stood and began for his bedroom. "You don't have to follow me. If you wish to wait until morning to leave, you may do that as well," he stated before vanishing into his room.

Chris sighed and set the picture over the shards of glass before following the blond down a hallway and into the only open doorway.

"You may not need the serum. I can provide methods—"

"You don't believe I've tried them? Don't underestimate me," the blond snickered, shucking off his jacket and tossing it over his computer chair.

"What makes you feel so guilty about William leaving?"

"I should not have put him into that position. If I hadn't, he would be here instead of you."

"You're worried about replacing him?"

"Would you _stop_ attempting to psychoanalyze me? I simply need a connection to the precinct and I have one."

"Why?" Chris asked, shaking off minor insults. When Wesker did not respond, Chris chuckled dryly. "Umbrella."

"Indeed."

"They didn't hold up their end of the bargain."

"They did not get a chance to. _You_ chased my only contact away. I'm going to Irons in the morning to straighten out the situation."

Chris guffawed and Albert stopped to stare at him.

"You think Irons will help you? He has a gun pressed against his head just like all of us do. He has no more influence over Umbrella than Birkin did," Chris said. "I'm not supposed to tell you this but Birkin didn't come on his own free will. He was brought in by Irons specifically claiming he was doing illegal deals with stolen Umbrella products."

Albert stood still a moment, his breath shaky and his body rigid.

"I'm sorry but I thought you knew. You said you didn't t—"

"Of _course_ I don't trust Umbrella. Anyone logical would feel the same."

"Raccoon City doesn't agree."

"Raccoon City will die."

"Give me a chance to help you. One chance, that's all I need then you can fuck me all you want and I'll be gone by morning. One chance."

Albert looked from his bed to the brunet before sighing.

"One chance," Albert stated, sitting on his bed.

Chris pulled out the blonde's computer chair from the desk beside the bed and sat down.

"You'll need to be open with me," Chris stated. "Start from the beginning."

* * *

"You need stability. The delayed reaction comes from your fear of guilt. Hell, it isn't even guilt you feel! It's a panic attack that is triggered by the fear."

"That sounds—"

"It's _human_, Albert."

"I was going to say ridiculous."

"Humans are ridiculous," Chris said with a shrug. "Get over it. You are one. You're good at your job, extremely skilled in just about anything you do, and you have a man sitting in your bedroom talking to you about psychiatry when you brought him here for sex. That takes skill, believe me. Just create a stable life for yourself. Move if you have to; get a real job—anything. But you can't keep feeling the guilt that crippled you when you were younger. Specifically if it hasn't happened since, which, according to you, it hasn't. Or you could learn to work around it… but no serum will help. Panic attacks are based on mental status, not the body."

"I see."

"How'd I do?" Chris asked, crossing his right leg over his left and resting both hands on his lap.

"Well, it certainly isn't what I expected," Wesker muttered.

"So I didn't help?"

"I didn't say that," the blond said thoughtfully. "I'll consider what you said. Perhaps we could—" Wesker motioned to the bed with his left hand and Chris laughed with a nod.

* * *

Chris walked to his apartment, Wesker on his heel as the blond insisted on walking him up to his door. Chris stopped at the doorway and turned on his heel to accept a long kiss from Albert, smiling when he pulled away.

"That was fun," Chris said.

"Indeed-" Albert pushed Chris against the door and kissed him harder but both stopped when they heard distance crying.

"J-Jill!"

The two broke apart and Chris hurriedly unlocked his door and opened it quickly, revealing the female brunet in the corner of the room, tears falling from her eyes and streaking her cheeks.

* * *

"Chief Irons," Chris called, walking into the office.

The office was small with a single light hanging from the ceiling. A desk sat near the middle of the room with an overweight man behind it. The nameplate sat atop his desk reading 'Chief Irons' was the only item visible.

"Redfield, what brings your fairy ass to me today?"

Chris gritted his teeth and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I did what you told me. Albert Wesker is desperate for a quick fix for his problem more than ever. Umbrella should be able to do whatever they have planned."

"Are you positive? Spencer won't be happy if he isn't what they expect of him."

"I'm sure."

"Jill told me what you did to get this to happen," Chris said through gritted teeth. "If you wanted this done, you should have gone to me directly."

"Jill was much funner to play with," Irons commented. "She screams a lot."

"I'm handing in my resignation," Chris muttered, pulling out a folding piece of paper from his pocket. He tossed it at his boss and leaned onto the desk that separated them. "Jill's is here as well. If you ever come near me or her again, I will kill you."

"Is that a threat, fairy-boy?"

"Fuck yes, it is."

* * *

Walking out, Chris smiled when he saw the blond outside awaiting him. Jill was safe at his house still and the two had plans to move in together. Wesker, however, had no intentions on changing his work but he was able to work around the attacks with various methods suggested by Chris.

"Did you talk to him?"

"I did," Chris said. "He called me fairy-boy a few times and I swore you were willing to give yourself to Umbrella."

"I suppose I should be expecting another fence, then," the blond said with a smirk.

"What makes you say that?" Chris asked as they began walking towards Albert's car.

"They will send someone to contact me. I will refuse to go with them and they'll continue their deals with me because they want me so badly."

"You think they're willing to kill to get to you, don't you?" Chris asked with a laugh.

"Aren't you?" the blond asked with a smirk.

"Ha ha," Chris stated dryly, turning on his heel to press himself against the blond. "So is this like your relationship with William?"

"Nothing is similar to what I had with William," the blond said. "Besides, we never had public affairs such as this."

"Does that mean we're a couple?" Chris asked carefully, accepting a quick kiss from the blond.

"Perhaps after a real date that doesn't involve psychological advice followed by a—"

"Followed by a night filled with passionate sex? I don't know, that sounds a bit mundane."

"Mundane can be tolerated."

* * *

**Holy eff this is finally done! Nineteen pages and I had to get assistance from several thousand of my friends and even my Tumblr fans! Thanks guys! Anyway, if you guys don't understand what just happened, you can pm me or ask me on tumblr, whichever is fine. I tend to forget that you guys don't know what's going on in my head so whether or not it'll make sense is a bit of a test.**

**If you can't tell, Irons didn't go to Chris's apartment. When he called her into his office near the beginning is when he did it and, beyond that, she was kind of drunk so did what she needed to do.**


	8. Sinking

Author's Note: This is a oneshot for the lovely **siberian74** who has asked me to do a few prompts that I just loved the ideas for! I'm sorry it's taken so long but I've been slowly trying to get everything else out first. Thank you so much for the pm and I really hope you enjoy!

This is completely AU with Umbrella and Piers and just—accept the AU. That is all. I'm not even going to give you a back story to what the hell is happening in the story. You're just going to have to read and accept what I've written… just like I had to do while writing.

* * *

**Sinking**

Chris moaned and closed his lips around the fingers that were offered to him. The man behind him shuttered quietly at the sudden warmth and stopped thrusting momentarily to bite lovingly at Chris's back. Albert chuckled darkly when Chris arched into the bite. Chris's grip on the sheets beneath him tightened when the blond continued, pushing faster and deeper while another moan filled the room.

As Albert's thrusts got deeper, they grew rougher. The blonde's teeth dug into Chris's skin and Chris let out a hiss of pain. The pleasure forced the pain to simply ghost past Chris's senses and, before long, Chris was sure there was a trickle of blood coming from his back.

"Albert—" Chris panted, gritting his teeth through another moan. "D-Don't bite so h-hard."

Wesker growled in response but did not stop. Chris opened his mouth to say something just as the blond reached around and grasped his hard weeping cock. The noise that escaped his throat simply was not human.

* * *

"You have to be more careful next time," Chris muttered as he exited the bathroom to see Albert lying naked and newly showered on the bed.

"Why is that, Christopher?" the blond asked simply as he watched Chris cross the room, towel around his waist.

"The mark on my back was bleeding until a couple of minutes ago. You'd be surprised how hard it is to take a shower when you have a fresh wound being pummeled by water."

"I apologize. Perhaps my enjoyment got the better of me."

"I'm proud of you for the raise, I am, but you know how I feel about Umbrella. It's great you're CEO now but nothing is going to change."

Albert sighed and stood from the bed, making his way to the still nude Chris who stopped searching through Albert's drawers to look at him. Albert walked directly up to Chris, lifted his head with a finger, and kissed his lips. It was a gentle, reassuring kiss, but Chris knew it was in vain. It wouldn't change anything.

"I'm not going to change something that works," Albert said once he pulled from the kiss.

"Even if it's killing hundreds of people."

"Chris, as Captain of the B.S.A.A you need to let it go."

"How do you expect me to just let it go?" Chris asked, eyes hardening and eyebrows furrowing.

"Another round?" Albert asked suggestively, tugging playfully at the towel around Chris's waist.

"_No_, Wesker. This isn't a game. I can't just stand by while these people—"

"You can and you will, Christopher," Albert stated seriously, arms crossing over his chest and eyes glowing dangerously.

"You don't own me, Wesker."

Albert laughed.

"Of course I do, Chris. As CEO of Umbrella and as my lover, I own you."

"How does our sex life have anything to do with this?" Chris asked angrily, arms crossing over his chest as well, mirroring Albert's stance.

"Every thrust, every bite, every time you call out or beg—I claim you, Christopher. _You are mine_," Wesker said slowly, his lips twisting into a smirk.

Chris lost control and swung his right fist into the general direction of Wesker. Albert, of course, caught it, and directed a reciprocating punch into Chris's stomach. Chris toppled forward, sputtering for air, before being kneed and sent reeling backwards against the dresser. A stinging pain ruptured from the bridge Chris's nose and his hand went to touch it tenderly. Upon lifting his fingers, the glisten of blood could be seen but Albert charging pulled Chris from his wound.

Chris dove out of the way just in time causing him to lose his towel in the process. His old boxers lay feet away from him on the stone floor and he scurried to grab them and pull them on while Albert recovered from running directly into his dresser.

Chris was standing and, slightly, clothed by the time the blonde was facing him again. Neither moved this time though both were panting. Albert's glowing eyes were dying as his anger diminished and the sting on Chris's nose was beginning to grow.

"You should leave," Albert muttered, turning his back on the brunet to open the top drawer of his dresser.

He began shuffling in the drawer before pulling out a pair of briefs to slip on himself.

"You don't own me anymore, Wesker," Chris growled at him, backing up slowly to grab the overnight bag beside the door leading into the hallway.

A flash and Christopher's back was suddenly colliding with the wall beside the doorway. Albert was in front of him, right hand gripping Chris's jaw and forcing the gritted teeth to give a growl. Chris's left hand grasped listlessly at Albert's wrist while his right shoved at the blonde's shoulder and chest.

"I _made_ you captain. What will you do, quit your job? I will send out a warrant for your arrest and I will hunt you down and make you into the test subject that you so hope to save."

Albert released Chris and stepped away. With no time to spare, Chris rushed out of the door, hand grabbing the bag just barely before bolting as fast as bare feet on cold hard stone could carry him.

* * *

"C-Captain."

"Piers," Chris' monotone voice stung at Piers but Chris didn't see considering he didn't lift his head to look at the awaiting male.

"Are you alright?" Piers asked carefully, eyes shifting back and forth across his surroundings before slipping into Chris' office.

"Yes, why?"

Chris still hadn't looked up.

"Y-You're nose, sir."

"It's nothing. What do you want?"

"I wanted to ask something—" Piers gave a shaky sigh and his fingers began to pull at the scarf around his neck while his eyes wandered around the room.

Pictures hung on the walls that told various stories of Chris's life. Claire, S.T.A.R.S, even a single one of Jill Valentine who, to the best of Piers' knowledge, died with the remainder of S.T.A.R.S. In fact, Chris was the only survivor. Brad survived the original T-Virus strike in the mansion but died soon after in Raccoon City, ending up as a zombie much like everyone else.

"Yes?" Chris asked after several quiet moments, eyes on the laptop in front of him.

"A-Are the rumors true?"

"What rumors?" Chris asked, eyes flashing up momentarily to see the awkward standing agent.

"The ones about.. you and… Mr. Wesker…. Sir."

Chris stopped his typing, his hands falling into his lap as he fully turned his attention to Piers. Piers, automatically, stiffened and inhaled to begin defending himself before a look from Chris had him close his mouth and bite his tongue instead. Neither spoke for a full minute and Piers was beginning to wonder if he should just leave when Chris finally responded.

"That's a difficult question to answer and a personal one."

"I-I'm sorry, Captain, I just—" Piers was tripping over words now as he fought his reddening cheeks.

"We _were_ in a relationship, I guess," Chris muttered pulling Piers from his own embarrassment.

"You were?"

"We 'broke up' last night. I don't know how else to put it. It wasn't a very normal relationship."

"I-Is that how you got—" Piers' gaze fell to Chris's nose and Chris sighed.

"Look—"

"He hit you?" Piers asked, eyes wide and voice raised.

"Piers!" Chris hissed, standing and rushing to his door to close it. "It's not what you think."

"Then what is it, exactly?"

Chris was quiet, eyes avoiding Piers' before he sighed and returned to his desk.

"Maybe you should go, Piers," Chris muttered quickly.

"Captain, you can't just let him get away with something like that!"

"He's CEO of Umbrella, Piers. There's nothing I can do. If you don't want anything else, you should leave."

"A-Actually, what I originally came in here for… was… uhh.." Piers sighed and when his gaze was met by Chris', he blurted out the question in a jumbled mix of words that sounded a lot like "Willyougooutwithmesir."

It took Chris a moment to even understand the question let alone think about an answer. When the words finally registered and he realized that the scared look on Piers' face wasn't going to turn into a smiling laughing one, a single word escaped his lips, "Oh."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's too soon and we work together and I'm just going to go."

Chris said nothing as he sat, dumbfounded and watched Piers shuffled out of the room, head down and hand gripping his scarf roughly.

* * *

"You've returned."

Chris sighed at the dark voice and shifted uncomfortably under the excruciating gaze.

The brunet, for the first time in months, had to knock on the mansion door and was surprised to see Albert answer in his work suit. Chris bit his lip, ignoring the handsome blond as his head dropped and his gaze remained on his boots.

It was a cold day and Chris, who lived several blocks away from the mansion (transformed from a church bought by Umbrella), had walked. Grey storm clouds hung over London threateningly and Chris was sure it would rain. He proved to be right the moment he stepped up to the door because a single drop of rain fell and hit his cheek.

"I left some personal items. I want to get them."

"So you do not plan on returning?"

"You chose Umbrella over me. I'm not surprised, I'm simply accepting it. In case you're wondering, I'm not leaving the B.S.A.A either."

"Oh, I'm well aware. Your belongings are in the study."

Albert stepped aside and opened the door wider allowing Chris to walk inside to the Great Hall. Umbrella has taken over to put it simply. The large cathedral windows of the great hall had red and white stain glass umbrella imprinted in each. The pews were replaced with rich, expensive furniture which sat on stone flooring. A staircase led to the bathroom and bedrooms while a hallway to the side lead to a smaller bathroom and the study.

Chris, despite knowing where it was, followed Albert past a roaring fireplace and into the quieter study. The walls were lined with book shelves filled with countless books, files, and even recovered documents from Umbrella.

A black duffle bag sat on Albert's desk. It was the duffle bag Chris kept permanently in Albert's closet to hold the items he used frequently and it was currently filled with clothes that Chris had left the night before.

Chris said nothing as he stepped forward and grabbed it, swinging the bag over his shoulder.

"I suppose I'll see you at work, _sir_," Chris muttered.

"Indeed you will, Redfield. I expect your team report on Monday."

"Of course."

* * *

Walking home, Chris could care less that his bag was currently soaked through and the clothes within were wet and weighing twice as much as they should have. The brunet wasn't even to the end of the block and his clothes were clinging to his skin, his hair was sticking to his forehead, and he was fighting tears from his eyes.

He knew, better than anyone, that Albert never would have picked him over Umbrella and that there were times when the blonde went overboard but both were guilty of that. Neither seemed to be able to have a relationship without getting into one or two fist fights every once and a while and theirs always ended up with really great sex but Chris simply couldn't look past this.

And it was killing him.

"Captain!"

Chris stopped and looked to see Piers in the driver's seat of a black Cherokee jeep. Piers had pulled the car beside Chris and was currently talking through a rolled down window.

"Piers," Chris stated, gaze falling on the surprised brunet.

"Do you want a ride?" Piers asked, voice rising over the sound of falling rain.

"I live right down the street, actually."

"If you don't mind me saying, Captain, you don't seem like you really want to go home."

Chris thought about Piers' statement for a moment and even looked down the street at the building that his condo was in. He sighed and looked back at Piers before chuckling and giving a nod.

"Yeah, okay."

Chris rounded the car and slid into the passenger's seat before closing the door. Despite being wet, Chris set the duffle bag in his lap and secured the seat belt over his lap. Piers eyed him with a smile, both hands gripping the steering wheel.

"Where to, Captain?"

"I would suggest a bar but—" Chris beckoned to his wet body and Piers laughed.

"My place okay?"

"That's fine."

Piers gave a nod and took the car out of park. Their drive began and when Chris passed his apartment complex, he watched it go by. He sighed as he realized he could only avoid his apartment for so long but he quickly turned his attention to Piers as depression began setting in.

"Thanks for this, Piers."

"Don't mention it, Captain. What's the bag for?"

"Oh.. uh.. I left some belongings at Al—Wesker's house and I was retrieving them."

"And you decided to walk home in the rain?"

"I live a few blocks away, I didn't expect a flood."

"The universe isn't taking kindly to you, sir," Piers said with a chuckle.

"You don't need to keep up titles, Piers. We aren't in the office with bosses breathing down our necks."

"I'll try my best, s—Chris."

* * *

Piers struggled with his keys momentarily while Chris stood behind him. The two were in the hallway of a nice looking apartment complex and, to top it off, Chris saw no sign of Umbrella influence within the building. Once the door was unlocked, with a hand on the doorknob, Piers smiled awkwardly back at Chris who returned the smile.

"I-I don't really have much time to clean and—"

"Don't worry," Chris said with a laugh, reaching over Piers' shoulder to push the door open.

The door swung open revealing a dimly lit apartment. It was clean, much cleaner than Chris' apartment anyway. The front door led directly into the living room; two black leather couches sat across from each other with a coffee table between them. A flat screen television was hanging on the wall with hung pictures around it and various paintings were spread throughout the room.

The dining room was an extension of the living room and an elongated black table with two matching chairs on either side sat relatively close to the wall it was beside. The table was empty except for a flower and vase which sat in the very center of the table.

Piers led the way through the living room and Chris saw a glimpse of the kitchen. A dish or two sat in the sink but the countertops were clear and everything seemed perfectly clean. The two continued through a door across from the kitchen which led to Piers' room.

"This place is spotless," Chris muttered as he entered the room.

Piers simply chuckled.

Piers' bed was made with a Siamese cat curled up on the blue comforter that covered it. Another flat screen was hanging on the wall across from the bed and a dresser was pushed up against the right of Piers' bed to make room for the desk on the opposite side. Piers blushed slightly and made his way to the closet, opening it and stepping inside.

"Let me see… oh, here—" Piers pulled a pair of sweats from the hanger and, after a moment of searching, simply could not find a shirt that would fit over Chris' body. "Sorry I couldn't find you a shirt," Piers muttered, offering the sweats to Chris with a frown.

"It's fine," Chris said with a chuckle, taking the sweats. "These will be fine. Anything to get out of these wet clothes, really."

"Alright I'll leave you to it. If you want to give me the clothes in your duffle bag, I could throw them in the drier with the clothes you're wearing."

"Yeah I'll grab them out after I get dressed."

"Alright," Piers turned on his heel and began towards the door.

"Hey—" Piers stopped and turned slightly to look back at Chris who was suddenly speaking. "Thanks for this. I appreciate it."

"Of course, Cap—Chris. That will take some getting used to," Piers laughed before leaving, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Chris opened the door, wet clothes in hand, and found Piers gone. Chris stepped out of the room, the sound of naked feet on linoleum echoing through the quiet room. Chris bit his lip and took another few steps, looking around the corner into the living room to find it empty.

"Piers?" Chris called.

"In here!"

Chris turned on his heel and followed the voice through a closed door that just happened to lead to a small laundry room. The room was only big enough to hold a washer and drier but the walls were lined with shelves to hold laundry necessities.

"Sorry, I should have said I was going to be in here," Piers stated as he played with one of the drier's nobs.

"It's fine, really. I have the clothes," Chris stated, offering him the pile.

"Gre—" Piers had turned and finally caught glimpse of Chris's half naked body, muscles bulging and still slightly wet from the rain. "Great," Piers said with a clear of his throat, taking the pile quickly before shoving them into the drier.

Chris stepped out of the room and Piers followed, closing the door behind him. The two made their way into the living room where Chris chose one couch and Piers chose the other.

"Do you want anything to drink or eat?" Piers asked, eyes skimming Chris's upper arms before flashing to the brunette's eyes.

"I'm fine," Chris said with a reassuring smile.

"Well, I'm getting wine. If you'd like some—"

"Yes, please," Chris said with a grin causing Piers to laugh.

Piers walked to the kitchen and began rummaging around through his cupboards. Once two glasses had been pulled out and the bottle was retrieved, Piers was making his way back to the living room, both glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other.

"You know—" Piers began, setting the two glasses down on the wooden table before uncorking the wine. "I feel like I should apologize for earlier."

"Why?" Chris asked, eyes flashing between the pouring wine and Piers.

"It was… unprofessional to ask you out and after what that bastard did to you—" Piers sighed and slid the full wine glass towards Chris. "I shouldn't have asked."

"You ran out before I really got to say anything," Chris said, grabbing the wine glass and putting it to his lips.

"I didn't want to make it anymore awkward than it already was. This is my way of making it up to you, I guess," Piers said, setting the wine bottle down to pick up his own glass. "Do you want to tell me why you don't want to go home?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," Chris said with an apologetic look at Piers. "Just—that place reminds me of Wesker."

"That's understandable," Piers said with a frown as he sat on the couch. "Umbrella owns everything which means Wesker owns everything."

"Exactly," Chris said with a sigh. "Albert Wesker is power hungry… always has been."

"I thought you said you didn't want to talk about it," Piers teased lightly, a small smile on his lips.

"You're right, I don't," Chris said matter-of-factly before taking a drink of his wine.

Several minutes went by of silence as they took their drinks in strides, Chris thinking of Wesker and Piers thinking of Chris. Piers was caught up on a specific part of Chris' chest that shimmered with every breath and was too far gone to hear Chris speaking. By the time Chris was trying to get Piers' attention, Piers was leaned back, legs crossed over a growing bulge, bottom lip between his teeth, and his hand gripping his wine glass a little too hard.

"Piers," Chris said more forcefully, pulling Piers from his entrancement.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Piers asked, shifting slightly in his seat.

"I said for the record, I wouldn't have said no."

"To what?" Piers asked, mind fluttering into every direction it possibly could.

"To a date. It might have been unprofessional but it wasn't unwanted and bad timing or not, Wesker and I were never really dating. It was fun, really—well, for him…. The point is—if you still want to—"

"Before you say anything, Chris, I want to make it clear that I don't want what you and Wesker had."

"I never wanted it either, really. I wanted something real but—I want to do it right, this time. I want to go on dates, I want to learn things about each other besides who you've killed lately, and don't want to just sleep with you."

"G-Good," Piers said with a small smile, his grip tightening on the wine glass yet again as Chris smiled back.

"Piers, would you like to see a movie with me?"

* * *

They were both fumbling; Chris was trying to take it slow but _damn_ was Piers horny. The two were connected at the mouth and, despite a long talk, were quickly on their way to Piers' bedroom. The movie had been enjoyed and Chris had kissed Piers in the car and suddenly they were here. Neither were drunk and yet they were acting like idiotic teenagers.

"Wait, wait—" Chris said, pulling from the kiss, his hands on Piers' naked shoulders. "Are you sure about this?"

Piers, who was panting, locked eyes with Chris before shrugging.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "The only way I see either one of us regretting this is if we never get past this point and I, personally, have every intention on attending another date with you."

"Then you're sure?"

"Yeah, Chris. I'm sure."

Chris smiled and leaned in for another kiss, having it happily accepted by Piers. The closer the two got to Piers' bedroom, the less awkward it became. Each step was less of a trip and more of a stride and each touch was less needy and more sensual.

Piers sat on the bed first, kicking off the last of his clothing which just happen to be his boxers as he slid back onto the bed, lying on his back. Chris stepped out of his own boxers and kicked them aside before climbing onto the bed after Piers.

Chris had crawled between Piers' legs and almost continued kissing him but stopped when he caught a glimpse of Piers' body while in the light from the lamp to the right of them, Chris saw everything—the lusty, confident look on Piers, the red tint in his cheeks, the heavy rise and fall of Piers' chest. Chris sighed and his lips rose into a smile causing Piers to grow confused.

"What's wrong?" Piers asked causing Chris to laugh.

"Nothing… Just—" Chris paused and gave Piers a long once over, his eyes gliding from Piers' brown eyes to his prominent but not overly muscular chest. "—You're perfect."

The red tint on Piers' cheeks deepened and spread down his neck as he looked away.

"Chris," he muttered with a laugh.

Chris used his right hand to lift Piers' face back up but removed it when he realized Wesker did exactly that to him the day before. Instead, he simply smiled and leaned in for a chaste kiss before allowing Piers to dig out lube and condoms from his dresser.

Chris accepted the condom that was handed to him and tore it open before slipping it on his already hard prick. He set the wrapper aside and turned back to Piers who had a hand between his legs, rubbing lube around his entrance. Piers handed the bottle to Chris who was far too entranced with Piers' actions to even notice.

Piers was chewing the inside of his lip, eyes dark with lust and meeting Chris' gaze dead on as he slipped a finger within himself.

"D-Don't bother prepping me," Piers said, removing his finger and shaking Chris from his trance.

"Wha—I don't want to hurt you," Chris said in protest, head foggy as he twisted the cap from lube and squirted a generous amount onto his palm.

"You won't," Piers said with a blush. "I.. uh.. I'm still… from last night... when I.. uh—"

Chris laughed and pressed his lips to Piers' shutting the brunet up quite properly.

"Vibrator?" Chris asked with a smirk.

Piers simply nodded.

"We will be using that in the future," Chris promised as he spread the lube over himself.

Piers laughed and wrapped his arms around Chris as the brunet laid over him. Chris used his right hand to guide himself to Piers' entrance while his left supported himself. Once Chris was positioned, his right hand copied his left and both were now holding him up. He looked down to Piers for some sort of reassurance but Piers was far too interested in Chris's upper arms.

Piers' fingers traced the bulges of Chris's arm, lip between his teeth and his eyes following the movement of his fingers. Piers' head tilted to the side as his right hand traced down Chris' left arm, following the curves of each muscle and feeling them flex against his fingertips.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," Piers said in a whisper, the tips of his fingernails gliding over the sensitive, hot skin.

"The look on your face when you spaced out earlier—I thought you were going to break the wine glass," Chris said with a laugh.

"I should've given you a blanket or something," Piers muttered with a laugh. "I couldn't stop thinking about—" Piers trailed off and his eyes met Chris's again.

"About?"

"This."

"No pressure, then," Chris said with a smile before leaning down and capturing Piers' lips again. "Tell me if I hurt you," he stated seriously between kisses and Piers simply nodded.

Chris pushed in and fought back a shudder at the sudden warmth and tightness. Piers let out a breath and gripped anxiously at Chris's upper arms. Chris almost took that as a sign to stop but Piers' blissful facial expression encouraged him against it.

Once skin touched skin, Chris stopped and waited for Piers to stop tensing around him. Piers lifted his head to meet Chris' lips again and Chris began to pull out. The two kept connected at the lips as Chris thrust back into Piers. Moans got lost and muffled in the kiss while touches became less sensual and more erotic.

Chris quickly chose a speed after shifting onto his knees so he was no longer using his arms to hold himself up. He used the newfound leverage to delve deeper into Piers and, essentially, had no issues after that. Chris stayed out of rhythm purposely, and soon had Piers arching into quick thrusts while having him moaning through the deep, slow thrusts.

Piers' fingertips were soon digging into Chris' back, the tips of his nails grazing the sweaty skin as the sound of his gasps and pants mixed with skin on skin contact filled the room. Chris, who was normally loud during sex, found himself quiet as he was far too interested in the noises Piers made. Every gasp, pant, and moan had Chris holding back a groan.

As Chris felt the pooling pleasure in his lower stomach, he leaned forward, kissing Piers' neck in the process before whispering, "touch yourself."

Piers didn't both questioning the sudden command and simply nodded before lifting his right hand from Chris' upper arm. He wrapped it around his prominent member and began stroking himself slowly. After a minute or so of Chris trying desperately to stop himself from coming, he spoke again.

"Faster."

His voice was gruff, filled with lust, and was just enough to push Piers over the edge.

* * *

It had been three months and the two men were inseparable. They tried to hide their relationship at work but it could only last so long before people began walking in on them kissing which apparently was not much a surprise to anyone besides Wesker who had managed to avoid such an incident until… well.. now.

"Sir," Chris stated, straightening and moving away from Piers who had been pushed against the wall in his office. Piers simply cleared his throat and fought a blush.

"Redfield. _Nivans_," the blonde's eyes flashed back and forth between the two before landing on Chris. "How long has _this_ been happening?"

"That's a little personal, sir."

"I wouldn't be asking if I hadn't just seen you attempt to eat Mr. Nivans' face, Christopher."

"A while," Chris answered through his teeth.

"You seem—" Albert's lips twisted into a smirk. "—Happy."

"Sir—"

"Piers, quiet," Chris hissed towards his boyfriend, eyes still on Wesker.

"That's right, Mr. Nivans, quiet. The adults are talking."

"Sir, if the only reason you're here is to belittle myself or Piers, then forgive me if I ask you to leave," Chris said, hands in white knuckled fists.

"I'm simply here to inform you of an upcoming mission," Wesker stated, hands locked behind his back and his deadly smirk still visible.

"Where will we be going?" Chris asked, gaze hardening.

"Africa."


	9. Missing Link

**Author's Note: Here is another request from Doom-Overlord from Tumblr who gave me this prompt: **

**"Wesker has always had a problem in connecting with people. If someone's not in his immediate surroundings, all the feelings and thoughts disappear. It's as if they never existed or touched Wesker's life. He's aware of it, but has never seen this as a problem. Until he starts missing Chris."**

* * *

**Missing Link**

Albert Wesker was observant. He had to be, of course. The B.S.A.A was on his tail, Excella was untrustworthy, and he simply could not let Jill out of his sight most of the time with her increasing hate for him. Chris had managed to talk Albert out of using P30 or any sort of controlling device but Jill still seethed under that coat—and she definitely was not very happy Albert dyed her hair while she was unconscious. Chris found that funny.

Albert shook his head and swirled the shimmering red wine within his glass. Chris had been taking over his thoughts lately and it was beginning to trouble him.

The blond was sitting on a throne-like stone chair somewhere within the caverns beneath their Tricell facility. He frequented this place to avoid the terrible three who all looked to him for guidance (and sometimes to simply annoy him) but he could not seem to get a certain brunet out of his head.

His left arm rested on the armrest while his right hung off the side of the chair, wine glass in hand. His sunglasses were firmly in place and his eyes wandered the majini around him as they went about their business, ignoring his presence. Albert's head fell back against the back of the chair and he heard the quiet crunch of the dried hair gel threaded into his blond locks.

Albert was 'with' William for years, in and out of serious relationships with the man all through their training under Marcus. William rarely even crossed his mind anymore, these days, and he would even go so far as to say the two loved each other in one way or anything but William was dead through his own stupidity and there was no denying that so Albert simply let it go. If the blond was to be frank, he felt no real grief when he heard the news of William's death and, when informed, simply shrugged and continued about his day with no second thought.

Albert frequently forgot Excella even existed until he would walk into a room and have a sultry Italian voice suddenly bombard him with pleasantries and relentless flirtations.

Jill was another whom he easily forgot but more so because she was quiet and regarded. If anything, Jill was almost as observant as he was but she was paid to be.

The point? Albert Wesker did not _miss_ people. He let them go within moments of their exiting the room and if they didn't come back then it simply did not matter.

But Chris was different.

He yearned to see the brunet.

Albert's left hand twitched and he sighed before bringing the glass in his right hand to his lips. Once he swallowed, his lips returned to a tight line while his jaw clenched. He mused over his choices as he slowly began to realize that, in the end, he had to make a choice. Accept it or…

"Albert," an Italian voice rang through the hall.

Albert couldn't help chuckle as the Majini around him began to growl and search for the voice, unknowing of its source.

"As much as I'd wish you all to attack, cease," he said to them before standing and setting the wine glass onto the stone arm rest.

Excella's voice continued as she began climbing the countless stairs to reach the blond. The sound of her heels on stone echoed through the hall and the Majini stayed alert until they were able to lay eyes on the female. Albert looked down at her and mentally grimaced at the briefcase in her hand.

"Albert, why do you come down here? I've called you several times—"

"My phone is in my room. Why are you scolding me like a child, Excella? Is that really wise?" Albert asked with a raise of a brow.

"No, of course not. However, your injections are of the utmost importance, Albert."

"I'm aware. Do them here and leave me," Albert ordered.

"Very well. I still don't understand why you come here," she stated as Albert slid his coat from his shoulders and sat down. He began to fold back his sleeve as Excella began preparing the injections.

Within several minutes, Excella was packed up and on her way down the stairs. Albert watched her go, a sneer on his lips while he slipped on his jacket. Excella stopped suddenly and turned on her heel, eying the blond from halfway down the stairs.

"Oh, I almost forgot. _Chris_ is here to see you."

"And you didn't tell me sooner?" Albert growled, ignoring the wine glass still sitting on the stone chair as he began down the stairs.

"If I had, you would have run off to see him and ignored your injection completely."

"I understand the importance of them, Excella," Albert snapped as he passed her and she began following him down the stairs. "But you underestimate his importance to me. Where is he waiting?"

"He is currently with Jill," she answered with a snarl, her Italian accent lacing the words with poison.

Albert ignored Excella until they arrived in the headquarters where Jill stood, cloak covering her blue battlesuit though the hood was not raised. Chris was sitting beside her, eyes on the camera monitors that she was pointing to.

"Sir," Jill said passively as Albert entered, though she ignored Excella.

"Albert," Chris said with a smile, standing to greet him.

The blond remained quiet as he stepped towards Chris and wrapped both arms around Chris's waist, immediately connecting their lips. Chris, caught by surprise, kissed back with a smile and set a hand on Albert's shoulder, while the other pulled anxiously at the blonde's coat. Tongues swept by each other passively but Albert mainly focused on keeping their lips moving. Chris's stubble rubbed and scratched at Albert's smooth upper lip but it only encouraged Albert farther. Chris momentarily remembered there were others in the room and ended the kiss, releasing Albert's coat from his grasp and letting their lips drift apart.

"Miss me?" he teased with a smile causing Albert to scoff and shake his head.

"You have no idea, Christopher."


	10. Struggle

**Author's Note: Here's a prompt for jez-theundead who wanted:**

_Chris takes the fall at the Spencer estate instead of Jill and Wesker struggles to get that device on._

**Can do! Completely AU, by the way!**

* * *

**Struggle**

Chris awoke with a start as the memory of falling from a window with Albert Wesker beneath him dissipated from his mind. He groaned, his eyes shutting as his surroundings were dark and blurry and his body ached from the fall. Even with a cloudy head and aching body parts, he so wished he was in the B.S.A.A infirmary. Any second now, Jill would rush in with a doctor and maybe Claire and everything would be—

"_Chris_," the dark English voice spoke causing Chris to cringe.

"No," Chris groaned, peeling his eyes open to see a dark ceiling. He turned his head and found the blond sitting in a corner, his legs crossed and hands in his lap.

The only light came from the table lamp atop the side table to Chris's right. Nothing else was in the room, from what Chris could see, and found that he was currently wearing nothing besides his briefs under the hospital blanket. Chris was sore but he knew the fall had been months before—no broken limbs with no visible bruising? If anything he was sore just from not moving for months but coming from such an intricate background helped with these sorts of situations. He knew there was no possible way he could have survived a fall of that magnitude with a simple ache.

Albert clicked his tongue.

"You have certainly taken your time awakening, Christopher," Albert stated, standing before sauntering towards the hospital bed Chris lay in.

"Am I infected with any sort of deadly disease yet?" Chris asked through gritted teeth, voice raspy and dry.

"Not yet," Albert chuckled, stopping once beside the bed. The blond grabbed a glass of water from out of Chris's eyesight and positioned the straw in front of Chris's mouth.

"What are you—"

"It's been four months," Wesker stated, smirking when Chris closed his lips around the plastic straw. "And I have discovered something rather remarkable," he continued as Chris took large gulps of the cold liquid. "You were previously infected, were you not?"

Chris stopped, swallowed the water he had lingering in his mouth and nodded slowly. "Why?"

Albert set the cup aside and smirked. "I've discovered something remarkable—" he repeated. "—with your antibodies."

Chris watched in awe as Wesker bent down and grabbed a small device from the shelf within the bed side table. Wesker pressed a button atop the device and it began to a glow a dull red before six needles, three on either side, unfolded itself.

Chris slipped off the opposite side of the bed and stumbled onto the floor, his legs numb and irresponsive. Groaning through gritted teeth, Chris pulled himself up with the bed sheets and eyed the blond as he sauntered slowly towards the brunet.

"How would you like to do this, Christopher?

"Not…. Not like this," Chris gasped as he grasped to the bed to pull himself up.

"I could hold you down, you know. Or we could do without this device completely," Albert said, looking to the spider-like device in his hand.

"What do you want from me, Wesker?" Chris growled, sitting back onto the bed and rubbing at his knees with anxiety.

"Simply your devotion," Albert stated, fingers tapping on the edges of the spider.

"What?" Chris asked, eyes narrows and eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

The blond chuckled.

Within the hour, Chris was pulling a tight purple suit over his muscles. It barely fit and the front zipper pressed dangerous against his skin on his lower stomach even as he pulled it up. Wesker watched him the whole time, a smirk on his lips and the device lingering in his palm. Chris's hands lingered over the closed zipper on his chest as he considered tearing the ridiculous clothing from his skin; he was selling his soul and his body, after all.

"You've made a wise decision, Christopher," Albert stated as he rounded to look at the front of Chris.

Chris was still lacking boots but his legs were only just getting accustom to standing so moving was rather difficult. The blue cloth wrapped snugly around his calves and thighs leaving little room for imagination but comfortable enough to move and flex. The cloth continued over his groin, which Chris noted Albert's eyes lingering at, and over his chest and arms before ending snuggly around his wrists. Gloves sat to Chris's right and it took him a moment before he began to slip them on.

"Why are you giving me this choice?" Chris asked, slipping his fingers into the tight leather before switching hands.

"Why indeed," the blond muttered.

"That isn't an answer."

"It's far more of an answer than you would even hope to receive."

Chris looked up at the blond before sighing and standing slowly, arms leaning heavily on the bed to keep himself stable.

"If you really can't decide, just put the damn thing on me," Chris said through gritted teeth, eyes narrowing when the blond stepped up to him.

Wesker raised the device and began hovering it just above Chris's chest, red eyes meeting brown as if searching for fear or _something_. When no emotion was found, he smirked and leaned forward, pressing his lips to Chris's before setting the device onto his skin, allowing the spider to come to life and dig the leg-needles into the brunette's skin. Chris cried into the kiss but stopped almost immediately as the injection of P30 was administered.

"Perhaps, one day, you will join me."


	11. Beginners

**Note:Here's a dark one for Siberian74—Pre/Mid S.T.A.R.S and dark from Wesker's point of view!**

* * *

**Beginners**

Albert Wesker was a man of standards and class, something very difficult to come by in the recent years. He had his priorities and refused to simply give out his time but when he was given the S.T.A.R.S mission, well, he knew what he had to do.

Hundreds of files and resumes fell across his desk and hundreds went almost directly into the trash. File after file of idiots who varied from ex-cops to simpletons. He didn't need someone who had been through it all already nor did he need someone like him. He needed people with unusual talents, things people wouldn't admit usually—and then he found Chris Redfield.

It was one of the last in the pile. His eyes had gone over each paper of the bunch with little interest though once he chose the woman with the ability to pick locks, he figured he had the whole team until Mr. Redfield came to his attention. Even when the young male brunet sat across from him, Wesker realized just how intriguing he was.

Wesker wore a simple suit; no tie, just a jacket and pants. He sat behind his desk, sunglasses pressed to the bridge of his nose and a serious expression that scared Chris beyond reason—Albert adored that deer-caught-in-headlights look. Chris wore a black button up and jeans, a difficult mix between casual and semi-formal that irked Albert in all the right ways. Chris' resume sat on the desk between them, open with highlighted interesting parts. He was just so _intriguing_.

Chris was horror struck for the first few minutes. Seven or eight minutes ticked by and neither said anything. Wesker simply watched the brunet and took everything into consideration; his posture, his grandeur, his ability to work with such unpredictable circumstances, the works.

"You were discharged from the—" the blond began, eyes flicking, from behind the dark sunglasses, to Chris' startled face.

"A-Air Force, sir. It should all be in the resume," he said quietly, fingers linking together in his lap and his eyes nervously shifting from Wesker to his file.

Wesker paused and sat back, head tilting in interest.

The boy was so naïve and yet still _intriguing_. Why was he so interesting? Perhaps it was the slight assertiveness within the complete fear that rubbed the blond in all the right ways. Or perhaps it was the subtle movements like the way Chris' lower lip moved as he bit on it through the stress and the way he squeezed his fingers so tight against each other his knuckles were turning white. Either way, the blond was interested.

"First of all, I am well aware of what is in the file. However, take note that reading from a file is not nearly as interesting as hearing it from the source, do you understand, Redfield?"

"Yes, sir."

"Second of all, if you call me sir again, I'll be forced to throw you out simply due to the fact that I am _not_ your appointing officer nor am I going to be simply the man who tells you what to do—which is rather good considering you don't seem to work well with bosses. S.T.A.R.S is to be a family and if you are to be a part of it, you will not succumb to the military standards."

"Does that mean I got the job, s—er, Captain?"

The blond smirked through clenched teeth and shook his head slightly.

"We will see, won't we?" Wesker straightened and watch as Chris mimicked the move, pulling himself up in his chair and shuffling to get comfortable. "Tell me, Mr. Redfield—"

"Just call me Chris."

"I'd prefer not. Tell me, Mr. Redfield, why do you interest me?"

Chris seemed taken aback by the question and began to stumble over his words as he searched for the correct words.

"I-I suppose it's my difficult b—" Chris stopped and sat back, slumping slightly in his chair once again.

Albert was not impressed.

"I have no idea," Chris said truthfully. "I didn't think I would be right for the job and I obviously didn't think I would get picked."

The brunet had a dark, depressed side and Albert listened to it carefully. He listened as Chris' inner doubts came spewing from him in just a few words. His doubts of his abilities, the harsh reality of getting discharged and the effects it had seeped from the quietly spoken words. His interest yet lack-there-of in the job and the raised suspicion that it was all simply a joke fell from the words and Albert saw it all. The boy truly was as naïve as he seemed, it was almost cute.

Almost.

"And yet, here you sit. I will ask again and you will answer," the blond stated carefully. "Why do you interest me?"

Chris thought, this time. His eyes were down turned and his lip was being chewed furiously but he was thinking harder than necessary. Albert saw Chris' doubtful side leave him, if not for a moment, as the realization hit the brunet that he may actually get the job of his dreams, though perhaps he wouldn't believe he was so lucky if he knew what Wesker knew. Either way, another side of Chris emerged, the side Albert wanted to see.

"Well—" Chris began. "I don't really plan on giving you crap about being passionate or skilled, you already know that."

"I also am well aware that you don't seem to have planned anything, but continue."

"You're interested because someone who was recently discharged from the air force is sitting in front of you with no interest in explaining the reasoning behind how or why he was discharged because, just like you said, Mr. Wesker, it's more interesting to hear about something from the person than to read it on a useless piece of paper."

"And yet seconds ago, you claimed you didn't know if you were right for the job."

"I still don't," Chris said truthfully. "The interest in my background should not be the deciding factor on whether I'm capable of doing a job."

"You are far beyond qualified for the job, _Christopher_, but as were the remainder eight hundred or so files that came in contact with this desk. Qualified means nothing."

"Interest does?"

"Oh no, certainly not. The fact that you chose that, specifically, to state why you think I may be interested in choosing you tells far more than any '_useless piece of paper_' could tell me. Not allowing an event such as that keep you from chasing a job you don't even know if you're qualified for is a remarkable trait. It reveals that you are driven even if you are not motivated." Wesker paused and smirked once again as Chris simply sat across from him in shock or confusion—though possibly both. "And I'm interested in learning more about you."

Albert sighed and opened a drawer to his right, pulling out a name plate engraved with _C. Redfield_. He looked at it for a moment, Chris trying hard not to strain himself attempting to look at the name on the plate before Wesker simply slid it across the table and into Chris' lap unexpectedly.

Chris looked at the plate, smiled, and looked up at the blond to see Albert standing, hands behind his back. Chris stood quickly and clutched the nameplate in his left hand, beaming ridiculously.

"I expect you at the Raccoon City Police Department Monday at seven. Do not be late."

"I won't, Captain," Chris said, bouncing on his heels.

"Very well. I'll see you then."

Chris nodded, turned on his heel, and walked from the office. Albert waited until Chris closed the door before he sat down, right leg crossing over his left by the knee and smirk returning to his lips. The blond slid his sunglasses from his nose and set them on his desk, grey eyes falling on Chris' Air Force picture that sat atop the small pile of papers in the file.

He wore his Air Force uniform and hat, a small, proud smile on his lips that also reflected in his bright blue eyes; eyes that had dulled since then. The blond picked up the picture and sat back in his seat as he examined it closer.

Albert had already been through interviews with the remainder of the team and most of them had been interesting but Chris was different. Chris had a spark that Albert simply could not wait to ignite when the time came to destroy them all. As talented as they were, they would be no match for Umbrella.

Until then, Albert would have his fun.


	12. There's Truth Hidden In those Lies Pt 1

**Author's Note: Happy Birthday to the wonderful scafeandsalivate on Tumblr whose birthday passed way too long ago! I'm sorry this is so late. This holds both Chris/Wesker and heavy mentions of Chris/Piers. Also it's feely. And part 2 will come eventually.**

* * *

**There's Truth Hidden in Those Lies**

**Part 1**

Chris shifted in his office chair and sighed, his eyes gazing at the picture frame sitting on his desk to the left of his computer screen. He and Piers were squeezed into the picture, self taken by Piers himself who simply insisted on the damn thing after their first date as an official couple. Piers wore a silly grin that Chris couldn't help snickering at. The hazel eyes of the sharpshooter were bright and full of life, a sight that Chris had rarely seen in the brunet during their professional relationship. Picture Chris paid no attention to the camera but his eyes were locked on Piers. His fixed stare was bright but it lacked the excitement that Piers' very clearly held. Chris loved Piers, of course, but he was realistic.

They both held life threatening jobs that simply could not be ignored. Their lives were put at risk every single day and Piers seemed so excited for a future.

In the picture, Chris feared the future, if there _was_ one.

The situation worsened whenever one was sent on a mission. They weren't always put on the same missions, after all. As Captain, Chris wasn't always assigned to the same missions. He wasn't needed for a simple recon mission, of course, but missions turned sour frequently. It wasn't unheard of for casualties to happen during even the most basic of missions and that scared Chris.

The moment the flash of the camera struck, Chris was sure there would be a loss.

And there was.

Piers passed away two months ago.

His death held meaning—or so Chris' coworkers told him. Even Jill repeated the four words almost exactly but Chris held strong, even if he felt alone.

Piers didn't need to die. Piers died because of him, much like Finn and the rest of the teams that had followed him blindly into their own deaths. Piers was dead because of Chris and people had the nerve to claim his death wasn't in vain? _Piers _had the future. _Piers_ was full of life and ready to take it head-on. And Chris? Chris wanted to bow out and be left alone to his own devices for the rest of his life.

Chris' office had cardboard boxes stacked in the corners filled with Piers' belongings taken from his previous office. Chris couldn't bring himself to go through them and he wasn't entirely sure if he ever would. They were dusty and taped shut and Chris had every intention on bringing them home with him to their ex-joint apartment but he never had. Hell, most of Piers' belongings still remained in the closet, in the dressers, and scattered around the apartment and Chris made no effort to touch any of it.

Chris jumped at the sound of knuckles against his door. He sighed, straightened, and cleared his throat, quickly wiping any tears his eyes held.

"Come in," he announced, his gruff tone covering any emotion he felt.

The man who stepped inside was tall, only a few inches taller than Chris, and muscular though his black suit wasn't very form fitting and left Chris to his imagination. His blond hair was slicked back while his eyes were hidden by legendary sunglasses that reflected the office light from above. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his lips twisting into a soft smirk.

"Christopher," the man spoke quietly, his English accent distant but hearable.

Chris was stunned, frozen to his seat as the blonde slowly stepped farther into the room. Chris' gun was in the lounge, in his safe. His knife was tucked away within his desk but would he truly reach it in time? Would he even be able to move to retrieve it in his state of shock?

"Y-You're dead. How did you even get past security? YOU'RE DEAD."

"Quiet, quiet. In due time, Chris," the blond promised quietly, pulling the chair that sat in front of Chris' desk back before sitting in it.

Chris could call security. A press of the button and every agent in the facility would come running, including Jill. That worried him. Nobody would be prepared to face Albert Wesker; granted was Chris prepared for this?

"What… I don't _get_ it. Why aren't you dead in a volcano somewhere off the coast of Africa?" Chris asked. His knuckles were turning pale from his dangerously tight fists and the amount of inconceivable thoughts running through his head were completely unbearable.

"I expected this. Spencer, for lack of better terms, created another me. His failure in the Wesker Project forced him to do such a thing; terrible, really—"

"I killed a _clone_?"

"_For lack of better terms_, yes. Did you truly believe I would be thick enough to, in any state, trust anyone associated with Umbrella, let alone the company created with the consortium? I'm ashamed of you, Chris," Albert taunted quietly before he crossed his legs, interlocked his fingers, and set them in his lap.

"Spencer…" Chris muttered under his breath as he began attempting to understand Wesker's words. "It was all useless."

"No, of course not. He was trying to take over the world, after all. I wouldn't have done such a thing, silly really. What could I possibly gain from proclaiming myself as a god and killing everyone who inevitably would worship me? Nothing, of course. Nobody would possibly live through the injections the Wesker children experienced."

"You did," Chris snapped.

"If I hadn't, you would currently be dead, Christopher."

Chris looked across his desk at the blond, giving him a dead stare that _dared_ him to lie. After a moment, Chris nodded with a shrug before saying—

"Fine. How did you, Albert Wesker, save _my_ life?"

"A name. Alex Wesker. It sounds familiar, I'm sure."

Chris froze.

"Alexander Wesker, Spencer's informant and right hand man. The one who was mentioned in his… diaries." Chris's back rested heavily against the back rest and his mouth sat agape. "I—We thought he disappeared when Spencer was reported dead."

"Alex came out of hiding when Spencer was confirmed dead and I took care of him."

"Why?" Chris asked accusingly. "Rockfort Island was—"

"—also not me." Albert chimed casually. "However, to answer your question, I have a similar goal as you, Christopher: to prevent Umbrella from returning; idiotic hyphenated name or not. Neo anything is ridiculous, really." The blond paused but when Chris didn't say anything, he continued. "I sent Ada Wong to assist your cause in Edonia, I would assume you would have caught on—"

"Ada Wong works for you?"

Albert chuckled darkly and a grin spread across his lips.

"Mr. Kennedy has his secrets, I suppose."

"Leon knew?"

"I suppose he was never truly told but how difficult could be to possibly figure out?" Wesker paused and picked absentmindedly at his finger nails. "I have proof of everything I've told you if you don't believe me."

Chris groaned and his fingers rubbed at his tired eyes to rid himself of the headache that was surely coming. Everything he was being told felt like a lie. The conversation he had with Jake Muller a week ago about why Wesker wasn't as horrible as most put him off may not have been full of lies after all—that was if Wesker wasn't going to kill him.

"So what are you here for, Wesker? Do you want a medal? Do you want to kill me and finish the job you weren't able to do during the mansion incident?" Chris snapped, hands falling back to his desk.

"You truly have forgotten," Albert sighed, sitting back as if being forced to assess the situation again.

"Forgotten _what_? That you betrayed m—us? All of S.T.A-"

"You remember!" Albert exclaimed, placing both feet on the floor before standing up to lean against Chris' desk. "You remember."

Chris stood as well and placed both hands on his side of the desk, leaning over it just as much as Wesker. His teeth were gritted and his lips parted as a silent growl lingered in his throat. It was a challenge that he accepted—it was a challenge he would always accept.

"Of course I remember," Chris whispered, eyes narrowing.

Wesker leaned forward and closed the distance between the two. Their lips connected and Chris let out a muffled sound and pulled away, separating the two by mere inches. Chris stared at the blond for a long moment, blinking away his confusion and disorientation.

Wesker smirked and a growl escaped from Chris.

"Is this what you're here for, then? To recover something that was lost when you betrayed us?"

"I was in the process of recovering my information from Umbrella and leaving. The casualties were unexpectedly large."

"You put them in their graves, Wesker."

"I trained S.T.A.R.S and attempted to give them the needed skills they would require to live through the mansion. I may be responsible for their deaths but you, of all people—"

"Don't you _dare_ compare me to you," Chris hissed, standing up straight and wiping his lips with the back of his hand. "I had no intention of anybody getting hurt."

"And yet they did. After everything I've told you, you believe I had intentions of casualties?"

Chris held a hand to his forehead and shook his head. It was just too much. Was he really going to believe the man who had betrayed them? The man who he had _killed_ in Kijuju? The man he may or may not have loved a decade before?

No.

"Yeah, I believe you had every intention of the entire S.T.A.R.S squad dying. If you really weren't the villain we all know you are, why wouldn't you have exposed yourself earlier? Umbrella has been gone for years. How do you expect me to beli—"

"_**Email Received.**_"

"I believe there is my proof."

Chris glanced at his computer screen, watching Wesker out of the corner of his eye. Chris clicked to open the email and frowned at the single sentence he found. "_Mr. Wesker will hand you a flash drive to prove his innocence._" Chris eyed the email and rolled his eyes at the name: clicheemailusername123.

"Not very creative on the email."

"I'll be sure to inform Miss Wong of your feelings on the subject of her email choice," Wesker smirked as he dug two fingers into his breast pocket and pulled out a small black stick with a usb connection. "This is for you and the B.S.A.A."

"Why bother having her send an email?"

"Do you truly believe you wouldn't call security the moment I reached a hand into my coat? It was insurance."

Chris eyed the black stick but accepted it and held it tightly in his palm.

"Look through the files, Christopher. I will return again."

Wesker turned on his heel but stopped at the loud scoff Chris gave.

"You're leaving?" Chris asked accusingly. "Again?"

"You don't believe me, there is the proof."

"What about your son, Wesker?"

"Miss Wong has taken care of it."

"Ada Wong is not a parent. You are. He hates you because he thinks you're a monster. If any of this is true—" Chris held up the small black flash drive, "—then he deserves to learn the truth."

"Perhaps, at another time. I have loose ends to tie up far before I include him in this."

"He _is_ a loose end, Wesker."

"I'm well aware."

* * *

Chris groaned and fell back into his bed, his naked back chilled against the cool blankets he landed on. The brunet rested a hand on his stomach and stared at the splotchy white ceiling; the same ceiling he had stared at the day he was forced to drag himself home and accept Piers was dead. Piers was gone from his mind for the first time since Edonia and now, Wesker took his place.

Chris immediately felt guilt spread through him and he groaned, mentally apologizing to the sharpshooter.

In the end, Wesker had told the truth. The files contained evidence of Umbrella creating a duplicate Albert Wesker through the gene samples they had collected throughout the years. The project was overseen by Alex himself who reported to Spencer regularly according to the emails Chris found.

But Chris just wasn't prepared to accept the evidence.

He had spent so long chasing the evil, villainous Albert Wesker and, granted the man wasn't perfect, but he was no insane murderer. He still had special abilities and he did kill Spencer—but he was not the one Chris fought at the mansion with Jill nor was he the one who kidnapped Jill.

Albert found Jill and nursed her back to health for an entire month; however Alex kidnapped her as she was recovering and used her for her antibodies.

Albert Wesker saved Jill and finished off the last of Umbrella.

It felt so wrong.

**Ring.**

Chris sat up and sighed at the sound of his doorbell. He was almost sure it was Jill, she usually stopped by around once or twice a week to make sure he was okay and have a drink or two or sometimes six. Chris didn't bother putting on a shirt, figuring jeans were perfectly fine. He stood and made his way through his apartment, eyeing the various picture frames with he and Piers as the subjects.

It made his stomach jolt.

Chris took a deep breath, grabbed the doorknob, and twisted his wrist, rolling his eyes at the sight. Albert stood before him; hand in his pant pocket beneath his coat and glasses being pulled from his face to reveal grey-blue eyes.

"Are you here to kill me?" Chris asked as he crossed his arms over his chest to hide his exposed chest.

"I'm not, sorry to disappoint. Just to talk," Albert smirked as he slipped his glasses into his coat pocket. "May I come in?"

"S-Sure," Chris stepped to the side and Wesker stepped inside, looking around in interest.

Chris closed the door and watched as Wesker examined the living room intently. His eyes gazed over the leather couches Piers picked out, the television Chris bought Piers for his birthday, the paintings that Piers loved so much he bought almost instantly from the gallery down the street on their second date and finally Wesker's eyes landed on the photos in various areas of the house.

"Oh I see," he muttered, turning to Chris with a tilt of his head. "Miss Wong informed me of your relationship status with Mr. Nivans, however I didn't expect—"

"Piers died in China after injecting himself with the C-Virus to stay alive to save me," Chris said slowly, meeting Wesker's eyes momentarily before pulling himself away. "I read the files you gave me."

Wesker followed Chris towards the couch and sat himself on one of the couches, watching as the blond removed his coat before folding it over the couch arm and sitting.

"Do you hold belief in what I say?"

"What was the point of this, Wesker? To prove that you're not the villain everyone thinks you are? You're dead to the world. You could dye your hair, get a new identity, and live a normal life but instead you show up at the one building in the world filled with people that could kill you?" Chris sat back, the cold leather sticking to his back as his head rested on the cushioned couch.

"My goal is to return my life to what it was. _Exactly_ what it was."

"You ruined that when you decided not to tell me or anybody else what was happening," Chris scoffed. "And if you want my help—"

"I want you _back_."

"You never had me, Wesker. Get your priorities together and come back. Maybe you can date whoever the hell lives here at the time that isn't me," Chris finished in a mumble and was in the progress of standing to force the man out but Wesker spoke again.

"We lived together."

"It was logical to live together."

"And how logical was it to sleep together?" Albert asked with a smirk causing Chris to stop halfway between the door and the couch. Chris turned on his heel and sighed, crossing his arms over his exposed chest.

"It wasn't. I regret it every day of my life and I won't go through it again. Leave before Jill gets here and don't come back," Chris commanded in his best 'I'm in control' voice.

"Very well." Wesker stood and strode towards Chris, stepping up to him as Chris opened the door.

The two stood face to face for a long moment. Chris kept his left hand on the doorknob while his right was limp at his side. His eyes lingered on Wesker's grey, quietly appreciating the specs of blue scattered within the irises. Wesker's glowing red eyes haunted him for so long and yet they only ever existed on a copy; a double created to continue the legacy that Albert Wesker refused. And now Albert's eyes were back to the dull grey that Chris remembered gazing into every night and it hurt again for the first time in 5 years.

"I apologize for your loss," the blond stated quietly.

Chris didn't speak but he watched the blond turn on his heel and leave. Wesker continued down the hallway and turned out of sight. Chris sighed and closed the door, leaning back onto it before allowing his head to drift onto it with a thud.

His thoughts settled on Piers and he frowned at them.

He had loved Wesker. For several years following the mansion incident he longed for the blond and eventually turned his attentions toward preventing anything like Raccoon City from happening again, effectively forgetting Wesker was ever his lover.

Not boyfriend. Never boyfriend. Wesker simply would not have it.

And now Piers had sacrificed himself, Wesker was gone, and Chris was left broken and alone again.

Chris began for the kitchen to poor himself a drink, most likely alcoholic, but his doorbell rang again. He stopped and retraced his steps back to the door. He opened it and gave a small smile to the woman standing in the doorway. Her brown hair was out of its ponytail and resting on her shoulders. She wore jeans and a black t-shirt which told Chris it was her day off.

"Jill."

"Hey, Chris. You busy?"

"No—"

"Good," she said, pushing past him with a smile. "You _do_ have alcohol right?"

"Yeah, why?" Chris asked before closing the door. He was slightly surprised by Jill though decided to ignore it as he followed her into the kitchen.

"Bad date. I woke up at seven this morning to go on a coffee date and what did it get me? Abandoned with a seven dollar cup of coffee," she ranted as she opened and closed cupboards until she found the jack daniels.

"Did you like the guy?"

"A little, I guess. I thought he was nice but I guess I was just comparing him to all of the perverted assholes who were asking for sex rather than a date," she sighed and grabbed a soda from the fridge before pulling a cup from one of the cupboards.

"Pour me one too," Chris muttered.

"You don't even like spiked soda."

"I meant pour me a glass of just plain alcohol."

Jill nodded and poured herself a drink before pouring his as well. Left the alcohol on the counter, turned on her heel, and handed Chris his cup before taking her own into the living room. Chris followed and sat in his usual spot, crossing his legs and putting the cup to his lips for a swig.

"What's worse is the jackass didn't even bother cancelling or texting me that he was sorry." Jill sat and leaned on the arm rest of the opposite couch. She frowned and sat up. "Whose is this?" she asked.

Chris looked towards her and found Wesker's black coat folded over the armrest.


End file.
